


Tales from the Night Island

by Pandora_DeRomanus



Category: Anne Rice - Fandom, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora_DeRomanus/pseuds/Pandora_DeRomanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is was the original beginning for my 'Tales of Night Island' series. The idea of so many vampires commuting from California to Miami is such an amusing idea...I had to write it out...Not to mention all the possibilities of their time together on the island. So please let me know what you think, and I'll see about trying  to finish...This originally was suppose to carry on through the holidays in '87 through New Years until they all went their separate ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“We are not stopping again.”

“Come on!” Daniel protested, attempting to stretch his legs in the crowded backseat. “We've been on the road for six hours straight. I knew I was getting immortality in this life, but you failed to mention that our asses can still fall asleep.”

Armand sighed at his new child. The caravan of automotives had left the California compound four nights ago, and he was beginning to realize what he should have known all along: Five immortals in one car was not a wise decision. Even in the luxurious black sedan, Daniel had discovered that his new make up was not entirely as invincible as he originally believed; he was still subject to certain discomforts.

“Child, we're planning on stopping for the day in just one short hour. I trust you can hold out till then?” Marius said, from behind the wheel.

“I can't even get one rest stop till then, Gramps? May I remind you all that last night we stopped twice for Armand to visit The World's Largest Pistachio Nut, as well as the home of "Iggy" the forty foot lizard!"

"Iguana." Armand corrected. "And those were all historical sites."

"Fine." Daniel sighed from the backseat. "But when we get to Mississippi I am not missing 'The Huge Bottle of Beer"

"You do know that you can no longer consume alcohol Daniel, unless it's in the human blood stream, right?" Louis’ voice commented. Louis had somehow ended up, squashed in the rear passenger seat, Lestat stretched out between him and Daniel, the former seeming to find no discomfort in being in the middle seat. 

"Yeah. I know." The blonde reporter shrugged. "But still, I'm of Irish descent." He smiled, reaching under Lestat's ankles to balance them on his knees. "How does he sleep, like this?"

"Sheer exhaustion." Louis replied, reaching to smooth the golden locks that rested in his lap. 

"He's been out of it since we crossed the Texas border...You think he'd notice if we rolled him onto the floor?"

Louis' green eyes sharply peered out from behind his curtain of dark hair. "I would notice." He said in a tone that reminded Daniel of the night the immortal had almost drained him in San Fransico. 

"Yeah, gotcha..." Since Akasha's abduction of The Brat Prince, Louis had been a bit protective of his maker, now that they were reunited. "Yo boss, you wanna switch places?" 

"I'm navigating." Armand replied.

Daniel sighed. "Gramps. Tired of driving? I'll take over." 

"Please do not call me that," the Roman commented. "And I am quite fine, thank you."

"Fine, but tomorrow night, I call shotgun." Daniel concluded.

"Do not despair, love." Armand said, "Tomorrow you may have my seat. I will be riding with Santino's party for the remainder of the trip." The immortal teen briefly regretted his statement when he saw his old master grip the steering wheel a bit tighter than necessary at the mention of the Italian vampire. 

"Ah, boss. You wouldn't leave me in another car, would you?"

"Only if you agree to ride in the trunk," the redhead muttered. 

The ashen-haired vampire was about to reply when Lestat shifted, his boot clad foot making sharp contact with Daniel's chin. "Shit!"

"Merda." Armand muttered, reaching to turn up the radio.

***************************************************************

"Lestat? Lestat?" Louis said, gently shaking his maker's shoulder. "Nous sommes arrivé."

Gray eyes slowly opened, vision remaining blurry until he focused on the car's upholstered seats, and his fledgling's dark slacks. “Where?” He asked, sitting up, taking quick notice that Daniel was already outside the car, appearing to be in the middle of some stretching exercises.

“The Marriott Hotel.” Armand said, returning the map to the glove compartment. “It's the most decent thing around here.”

Lestat shrugged, climbing out of the car to look around. “It's so...flat,” he observed looking at his surroundings.

“We're still in Texas.” Louis commented, coming to stand beside him. “It's such a large state to drive through.”

“Yes, but it's better than if we had gone through Kansas, besides tomorrow we should make it to Louisiana.” The redheaded vampire said, making his way to the trunk to retrieve his bag.

Lestat turned sharply. “Should that excite me, Armand?”

The five-hundred year old frowned, his face slowly starting to take on its closed appearance. “If it doesn't you could always sleep some more...It's not as if we miss your dazzling commentaries.” With that he slammed the trunk closed and walked towards the hotel's entrance.

Lestat stared watching him retreat before a grin broke out on his face. “I missed you, Armand! Your adolescent mood swings have always been so entertaining to me!” Suddenly the blond paused, to look at his dark haired fledgling. “Speaking of amusements… Louis,” He said throwing an arm around him as they approached the hotel doors. “I had the most peculiar dream about a giant iguana drinking beer...The damn thing was trying to attack me.”

Louis paused in his steps, almost dropping his suitcase. “...Did you retaliate?”

“Yes. I just kept kicking my legs till I landed a blow to his scaly, green face.”

Behind the two, Marius cast an amused glance at Daniel.

“That's it.” The young vampire said. “I'm calling Gray Hound express. A bus full of mortals has got to be less hazardous than this crap!”


	2. Chapter 2

As the ferry came to a halt, the coven of vampires could not seem to get off the boat fast enough. It had taken them almost a week to make the three thousand mile journey by car, and now, with only a few short hours before dawn the group of immortals were all feeling weary.

“Island Sweet Island.” Daniel muttered throwing his backpack over his shoulder, as they approached the side entrance to his and Armand's estate. “Next time, please say we'll take the jet,” he said, bending down to Armand's ear.

“No, Daniel...There will not be a next time,” his lover sighed, opening one of the maintenance doors to reveal a flight of stairs. “Up we go.” He said to the group behind them.

Most of the coven was awestruck at the vast inner structure of Armand's home. Louis had to remind himself that being on an island it was highly unlikely these tunnels could take them underground. After a few more flights of stairs, Armand entering miscellaneous numbers into a keypad, and an argument between the redhead and Daniel about the misplacement of house keys, the group set foot into large well decorated modern parlor.

“Welcome.” Armand said, with a small gesture. “There are plenty of bedrooms; each has the necessary precautions for the daylight hours. Or, if you prefer, there is a secure basement area with extra coffins...and my staff is well paid and knows to stay out of both areas unless otherwise asked.”

“It's lovely,” Jesse smiled, being the first to break the silence. Around her, most of the coven made various agreements before coming to examine the room's decor or inquire about the exact detail of the sunlight precautions.

Louis turned to his left to eye Lestat. True, his maker had been uncharacteristically quiet since the trip began. How could he not? But since their convoy had driven through Louisiana with no stops, Lestat had barely said two words. The Creole reached out his hand, about to say something, when Lestat beat him to it. 

“I would like very much to take a bath,” Lestat said, suddenly addressing Armand.

The redhead nodded, civilly taking one of the French man's bags from his shoulder before leading him down a hallway. “I trust you'll see to our guests, Daniel,” he threw over his shoulder before disappearing.

“Um, yeah.'' The Fledgling nodded, eying the rest of the coven. “Anyone else who wants to shower, it's down the hall and to the right...or left...Or the other hallway...and the upstairs is enormous.” Sighing the violet eyed man put his arms at his side and shrugged. “The truth is, I still get lost.”

To his surprise the rest of the coven broke into a chorus of polite chuckles. Daniel wasn't sure how he felt about this. Wondering if it was their way of saying 'Oh look at the poor lost fledgling'... but it beat Armand's past sentiments of scatter-brained drunken mortal.

“Do not worry, young one.” Marius said, coming to place a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sure we can manage just fine.” With that the coven started to scatter about the home, taking various hallways or heading upstairs. Jesse came up to Daniel, and asked if she could use his telephone to call Maharet.

“The phone? no problem. That I do remember where to find.”

“It's long distance,” Jesse said following him. “I'll pay for it.”

Daniel laughed, “Please, does money look like a problem here?”

********************************************************************

“I trust this is suitable.” Armand said, opening the door to a large decorated bathroom, its garden tub alone seemed to be the size of small pond. Lestat's eyes scanned the chamber, eying the mahogany walls and stone floors before dropping his bag and walking over to turn on the tub's faucet.

As Lestat began to tug off his jeans, and Vampire Lestat World Tour T-shirt, Armand walked over to the linen cupboard and pulled out a few fluffy towels. As soon as he turned around Lestat was in the water, dunking his head back to wet his hair.

“I'll leave you, then...That door over there adjoins to a bedroom.”

'How did you do all of this?' Lestat's mental voice filled his head.

'Money...from years worth of sources'

'So this isn't from His old fortune'

Armand turned to stare before he understood the blond vampire's meaning. “No. This is not from any of Magnus' old funds.” He replied, bending over to pick up Lestat's discarded clothes before dropping them into a wicker hamper.

“You'll have to tell me about how you acquired such a fortune sometime,” Lestat replied, picking up a bar of soap and lathering it up between his hands.

“Yes.” Armand replied, staring. The Queen's blood had taken a toll on Lestat. The young fledgling wolf killer who marched around his Parisian streets was no more. Lestat was bleached bone white, taking on an appearance that looked more like his Master...or even the Egyptians. “Perhaps after you've rested.” He bowed his head slightly and made his way to the door.

“Is there an office I may use? Daniel said you have a number of those...computer machines with the word processor.”

“...Out this door, and on your left.” With that the teenage-immortal left closing the door behind him.

Lestat gave no notice of Armand's disappearance, he simply leaned his head back into the water submerging himself again.

******************************************************************

Jesse smiled, putting the phone back in its cradle to rest. She had reached Eric instead of her aunt, but regardless had relayed that their group had arrived safely.

“So everyone seems to be surviving well.”

“Yes...But I didn't think surviving is something we had to worry about.”

“Only among each other.” The brunette had clarified.

“So...Aunt Maharet.”

“Is with her sister...I am sorry I do not know more for you.”

“No it's cool-er-fine.” She said, self conscious of her language in front of a man who had walked the earth for three thousand years.

“We're...cool.” He said, sensing her nervousness. “Well, it's still evening here but I know dawn is close there.”

“There are plenty of safe places...but yes...”

“I'll tell Maharet you called, Jesse...and I'll try to at least stop by in the near future.

“I'm sure everyone would like that Eric...Goodnight.”

“Good Morning.”

After the conversation, Jesse had turned around surprised to see another immortal standing right behind her.

“Oh! Santino... I didn't hear you come in.”

“My apologies, cara.” The Italian bowed. “I could not help overhear your conversation...All is well with Eric...and your dear aunt?”

“Yes. They all seemed well.” She said, giving a weak smile at the ancient, remembering the argument that had transpired between him and Maharet years before.

“Think nothing of it...It hardly matters now.”

“Oh, yes.” She said, still somewhat shocked at how well he could read her mind. Something about him still made her a bit nervous, though she wasn't sure why. During the previous visit, he had shown her nothing but kindness and civility... Perhaps it was from Lestat's book, knowing his past with dark magic, and rituals or of Armand, a child who had been raised by Marius and then taken into such dark airs by the man standing right in front of her.

Jesse did her best to shield, afraid something might slip past, and offend him. “Well it's getting late,” she said softly, “… or early”

“Yes...I should retire as well. I think I shall seek one of the coffins that dear Armand has placed below. Good night, sweet Jessica.”

“Good night.” She said, watching him vanish close to the very same manner of his arrival. Jesse was about to leave the den and search for Mael, hoping he would stay with her through the day, when she saw it.

There on the desk, next to the phone, sparkled a familiar emerald ring. Just as magnificent and priceless as she had seen it on her finger years ago.

********************************************************************

As dawn broke over the Miami horizon, the immortals rested safely on the island each in the comfort of the various bedrooms or secured safely below the mansion itself.

Armand had appeared in Daniel's quarters only a few moments before the sleep took him, claiming he had given his room to Marius for his stay.

Daniel blinked slowly, rolling over to face his maker. “...Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” He said, his tone almost that of a whisper, before he kicked off his shoes and slid under the covers next to Daniel.

The fledgling sighed, reaching over to run his hand through the auburn curls. “You know, I don't think I've seen Louis since we arrived.”

“I put him next to the room I gave Lestat.”

Daniel blinked, “But Lestat's in the study...he's been there since he finished his bath.”

“Good night, Daniel.” Armand sighed, closing his eyes, hoping to fall into a mortal sleep cycle before the dawn came for him.

The reporter grinned, “Whatever you say, master.”

Armand's eyes quickly shot open, a feeling of dread filling his stomach. “Daniel?”

“Yes.”

“Please...don't ever call me that.”

**********************************************************

Lestat pulled the curtain secure over the office window before stretching out on the gray brocade sofa. His breathing slowed as the sleep took him. All his thoughts of the past few days slipping away, most of it had been written down on one of Armand's legal pads, next to it the computer was opened to the word processing program; the bold letters “The Queen of the Damned” filled the screen.


	3. Chapter 3

“I refuse to sit through another showing of Space Balls! I would rather watch Blade Runner for the 927th time!”

“You have barely seen it more than 50 times, Daniel. Yet if you can’t stand movies about Immortals why would you wish to see this-this fang-gang Lord of the Flies garbage?”

“It’s called The Lost Boys, and I thought you’d like it.”

“A vampire going to see a movie about vampires…how original.” The red-head frowned

 

The Night Island, Miami

 

November 10th, 1987

The Coven of the Articulate had established its residency in Miami for only a few days. Even though they had nearly escaped with their own immortal lives, some seemed to have no problem settling back into a domestic pattern.

Khayman smiled, setting down his copy of The Miami Herald. Earlier that evening he had suggested a trip to one of the movie theaters on the Night Island as a ‘group outing,’ however he had not expected to start World War III between Master and Fledgling. 

“Amadeo and Daniel seem to have mixed feelings about theatrical genres” Marius commented watching the two. 

“I was only suggesting a film with the intent of changing the evening’s pace…I did not mean to cause such a dispute.” The Egyptian clarified.

Armand paused, looking at the ancient. “A dispute?” He said, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Hell, this is nothing.” Daniel chuckled. “You should have been here for the great Ghost Buster-Amadeus debate of ’84.”

“Yes. When this one,” Armand gestured with his hand, “gave up the life-story adaptation of the 19th century’s greatest composer for the four stooges and a paranormal lightshow.”

“Hey! You laughed when Gozer The Destroyer, turned into the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man!” 

“Children!” Khayman addressed. “How did you solve the last… ‘Great dilemma’?”

“Separate theatres.” Armand replied, picking up the entertainment section of the paper.

“Oh my child,” Marius sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead. “But then again, you did walk out of the play houses in Venice to go play cards in taverns.”

The red-head paused in his reading to stare at the Roman, his eyes wide.

“Don’t look so surprised,” the blond smiled. “I knew of everything you boys did during the day…even cutting out on assigned viewings.”

Daniel paused and looked at the two immortals, back and forth, “Wait, what are you talking about?” He asked Marius before turning to his own maker. “You cut class or something? Was this in Venice? Hey Marius, question; what was Armand like when he was a kid at home in Venice?”

“For a few years-” Marius began.

“No!” Armand interrupted, throwing down the newspaper. “It was never my home.” He said quickly, before disappearing from the room faster than Daniel could see. He was finally a vampire and he still couldn’t keep up with Armand in speed. 

‘You will in time, little Fledgling’ Khayman’s voice echoed. 

“I’m sorry.” Daniel sighed, looking at Marius. “He hasn’t really told me much about- well…anything about his past.”

“No,” Marius said, shaking his head. “Do not apologize; it was not my place to tell.” 

“Nor his apparently.” 

The three vampires turned their heads in search of the new voice. The owner was there leaning against the doorway arms crossed over a rumpled leather jacket and wrinkled white dress-shirt. His blond hair was tussled signaling his recent wakening. 

“Is it really? Yes, behold the Marquis d' Auvergne has awoken!” Daniel announced.

“Mind your wit, young one,” Lestat greeted, walking by him to tussle the ashen hair. 

“Always young one now.” Daniel muttered, gesturing for Lestat to take a seat.

“No, thank you. I’m heading out.” He replied turning to look into a gold framed mirror before smoothing out his hair.

“It’s about time.” Marius commented, “It’s nearly midnight, you usually awake right at dusk.”

“I awoke, and then went back to sleep.” He sighed, brushing his hands down his clothes in a better attempt to smooth them. Since the arrival to Miami, Lestat had not done much other than sleep. On the first night of arriving he shut himself up in one of Armand’s offices, writing…well they all knew what he was writing. 

“Has Gabrielle arrived yet?” He asked. Lestat’s mother had decided to follow the caravan on one of her son’s Harley Davidson’s rather than in the car with the other immortals. She had kept up their pace halfway there, but had disappeared when they hit the Florida border.

“She’s arrived. She and Maharet’s child went for a walk.” Khayman answered.

Lestat nodded to himself in the mirror before turning around his eyes searching the living room. “Where’s Louis?” 

“He has gone into the city as well.” 

The Frenchman raised a brow before looking the Egyptian in the eye. “Louis? My Louis? Out? Well, watch me faint in shock.”

Daniel looked up, opening his mouth.

“We don’t faint,” Lestat answered. “Well…I don’t know. Ask your maker…if he ever comes back. Adieu!” He waved heading for the door. 

The fledgling let out a low whistle as the door closed, looking at the two ancients sitting next to him. “So... movie?”

*********************************************************************

The bright lights of island never went out before dawn. Walking through the swarm of hot mortal bodies, Lestat was beginning to feel overwhelmed. The thirst. He had consumed more blood over the past few nights with Akasha than he had in his entire immortal existence…and yet he still wanted more. His throat burned, at the thought of the hot crimson liquid flowing into his mouth, swallowing the glorious syrup. From the neck of one the drug dealers that inhabited Miami, from the wrist of a beautiful vixen kissing it upon greeting… 

His eyes caught a young woman walking by in a tight red dress; looking like sin itself. Her breast pushed up, pulsing with each breath. The veins branching out form her aorta…the heart; the very center of the… Gods, he had to leave the crowds! Picking up his pace he pushed his sunglasses further up before ducking into the nearest alley. 

A few quick zips found him at one of Armand’s artificial parks. He could smell the filters from the man made ponds, but the actual trees and plants, he realized, were real. Finding a bench he sat down, eyes scanning the heavens above him. The moon was now waning from her fullness, seeming to look even larger this far south on the globe. 

His heart was beating a little easier, more calm. There were a few mortals through out the park, but scattered. Not pressing against him. He couldn’t remember such thirst even when Magnus had made him…He tried to picture the newest members of the coven; Beautiful Jessica or Daniel. How were they dealing with their new diet? Both being made by such strong makers. He knew Daniel liked to wait until the hunger built, a Fledgling after his own heart. He had even gone into one of the many night clubs. Dancing close, pressed up to his victims.

“It’s nice here isn’t it?” 

Lestat’s head snapped back. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach him…Oh. No wonder; he would never hear his thoughts, not since he made him. “Louis,” he greeted, watching his child walk around the bench before taking a seat next to him. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d leave the mansion tonight.” 

“I woke up and felt the need to take some air…Armand fights his Fledgling with words and his maker with silence.” Lestat said, reaching to brush some hair behind Louis’ ear. “I was unprepared when you approached me in Carmel Valley.”

Louis’ turned his head, trying to take a better look at him. “What do you mean?” Was Lestat not looking for him after all? When he first saw him in his black car roaming Divisadero Street, he was certain Lestat had wanted him to reveal himself.

“Your hair, I mean. Cut short that night. I hate it short.” Lestat continued, twirling his fingers in the strands. “I’m glad you haven’t cut it recently.”

“Oh,” Louis sighed. Well, perhaps the Frenchman had had his fill of ponderings to last him a while. But it didn’t matter. They had time now. To be together as they never had before.

Lestat forced his hand to his side. Louis had hated it when he played with is hair. He spent the better part of those sixty-five years touching it, only to be snapped at each time. ‘Well, as long as he leaves it long’ He thought. Honestly, it was back in style now. “So you were simply taking the air here, and came upon me?”

“Non.” Louis sighed. “…I had actually returned to the house, to find that you had left.”

“So you came here looking for me?” Lestat turned, raising a brow. “You do know I would have been back before dawn, Louis?”

The Creole remained silent.

“…Were you worried for me, Louis?”

“Did I lose that right?” He snapped. “For running out on you in Paris? After hearing you had gone to ground, and waiting all those years? Did I lose that right, to worry, to care?”

“Do you want that right, Louis?” Lestat cut him off, his accent thickening in anger. “Because when you and she took off after trying to assassinate me, I didn’t think you wanted it!”

“What is it you wanted to say that night in Paris? Before I took off, when she-after she-..” He paused, green eyes clouding.

The blond shook his head, slowly reaching out to place his hand on his fledgling’s thigh. “No Louis, not tonight…I can’t.”

“…I understand.”

They sat in silence. Lestat gently rubbing his hand over his child’s jean clad leg. Louis shifted a little, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out square object wrapped in brown paper.

“Shopping?” Lestat asked.

Louis pushed the object into his maker’s hands. “It’s the reason I left the house to look for you…Bon Anniversaire, Lestat.”

The blond blinked, feeling the brown paper. “My birthday was-”

“Three days ago, I know. Sorry.”

“No! Louis, thank you.” Lestat smiled, peeling back the paper. “I forgot yours…”

“Mine was days before I even approached you.”

“I thought about it though, and back in September- Well what is it?” He detoured, not wishing to bring up their daughter anymore that night.

“Oh.” Louis ducked his head. “I wasn’t sure what you do and don’t have anymore. I had to browse a few music stores to find that, though.”

Lestat paused, reading the label of the video tape in his hands. “Is this…This is my concert?” 

“Oui.” 

Lestat stared, the concert had seemed so long ago, but it had barley been a few weeks… And in this modern world his performance had already been recorded and distributed to the masses. “Louis, Thank you. I love it.” He smiled, leaning to gently kiss his fledgling. 

Louis leaned into the advance, letting his affection linger before gently pulling back. 

“September, October, November...” Lestat mused. “Christmas will be here before we know it…Louis do you remember that one Christmas…when, when we brought the tree in for her?”

“…Lestat.”

“…Right.”

After a few minutes Louis moved closer, leaning his head on the blonds’ shoulder. “I’m sure if you wanted to…Armand would permit a tree in the house for the holiday season.”

Lestat smiled, “Not here Louis…maybe a palm tree though…”


	4. Chapter 4

Vampire skin really was a marvel. Daniel's short, undead, life had been one surprise after another. Stepping out of the shower, he noted how easily the water evaporated into the linen, unable to absorb into his skin as he toweled off. His showers were hotter than ever, though unable to scald his pale skin, and he found himself in front of the steamy mirror, staring at his non aging reflection.

His hair was forever groomed in a shaggy over-cut; Armand had probably wanted to give him some leeway with the ever changing styles. When he had prepared him on the plane for his transformation, he had given him a close shave, leaving him with no viewable trace of beard or stubble that the blond could see. Yet Daniel was learning some habits did die hard. He still would accidentally reach for his razor in the evenings, once or twice slapping on aftershave just to see what would happen. Well, at least the stinging sensation had disappeared, but instead of absorbing into his skin it had run off, and left a sticky residue.

Deodorant he still felt obliged to use, though he doubted blood sweat left an odor mortals could detect. He still felt naked without it. Armand had all but pulled a funny bone catching his nightly ritual, saying his habit would die out in time. The comment had left Daniel curious; how long had it taken Armand to get use to the change? Did he apply powder and pomade when his vampire body was still new?

The redhead had frowned, stating that if his fledgling wished to know so much about the hygienic habits of European Renaissance then perhaps he should enroll himself in a history class at University of Miami next term.

Fat chance. Daniel had spent four years at University in California earning his degree in Journalism. Well five years, considering his freshman year when he was undecided, jumping from class to class. He later attended NYU with Armand, indulging him in night classes for political study and other passing interest the immortal teen took up. But the only interesting thing about that whole experience had been Armand's reactions and his desire to be among the mortal students. Daniel himself was never the scholar, he had lost interest in architecture the moment he found out how much math was involved. Never his strong point, thank you very much.

So the idea of him ever setting foot on a college campus again was not in the cards...except for tonight. Daniel smiled, reaching into the drawer of the night stand and pulling out the white envelope containing the season tickets Armand's connections had secured. Well, technically, the arena was located off campus, but either way, the opening game for the recently formed 'Miami Heat' wasn't something he planned to miss. Armand hadn't approved of Daniel's sports interest, or betting, but tolerated it mildly, enjoying the crowd and atmosphere. 

With a home full of crowded vampires, Daniel was happy to have at least one evening with his maker alone. Since his transformation the only alone time they seemed to have was before sunrise when they would bed down together...And the blond was beginning to wonder if that was only because his maker had given his own room to Marius.

Shoving the tickets into his jeans pocket, the reporter headed for the living room, immediately 'feeling' the other immortals rather than seeing them.

“Evening.” He greeted, taking a quick inventory of who was around.

Santino and Khayman were at the chess board again, had they even moved since last night? Gabrielle and Jesse were standing on the porch locked in conversation he only dreamed of understanding. Other than that, however, the main room was oddly bare. He used his advance hearing; the piano confirmed Pandora was in the library, and the faintest clicking of keys meant Lestat, surprise, surprise was working on his latest memoir. So lets see two, four, five, and six; he counted, the rest were probably out hunting or exploring the island, which he could care less about, except his date for the evening seemed to be MIA.

“Um, anyone seen Armand?” He had passed him briefly in the bathroom that evening, red curls still damp signaling his recent shower.

“He went out earlier with Marius.” Santino replied, moving his bishop diagonally towards Khayman's white knight.

“Oh.” Daniel frowned, looking at his watch. They had forty-five minutes till tip-off, plenty of time for those two to feed and come back.

“His young one was anxious to show him the water craft.” Khayman added, frowning at the loss of his piece.

Daniel turned sharply, feeling a small stone settle in his stomach. “Water craft- you mean Armand took Marius on his racer?” That speed boat was Armand's baby. He would spend hours on it. Of course it was always under the guise of feeding; Daniel knew he would track various drug dealers, only to feed on them during their hand-offs. Hell, half of their bounties and cash, had paid for that boat twenty times over. But Armand only used that as an excuse. The fledgling knew how much his demon master loved the sea.

In Venice, Armand insisted that every event, every place they visited could be found through the canals and waterways. It didn't take the blond long to figure out it was just an excuse to ride in the gondola and pass under the 'Bridge of Sighs' another time.

Oy, Venice. That was another can of worms for his maker. 

Let’s see. If he set up the equation: Armand, the sea, his former Master, times tip-off in forty minutes? Grimly, he found he could do math after all: the result was that Daniel attending this game solo. “Thanks for the warning, Boss” he sent, before remembering the fact that Armand could no longer hear him.

“I'm sure it just slipped his mind, young one.” Khayman said, not moving from his spot at the chessboard.

“Hey,” Daniel objected, raising his hand. “No need for that. I may be six thousand years younger than you, but I'm not a kid who needs consoling. Armand hates basketball anyway.” He muttered, more to himself. He was not upset, damn it. “I guess I can't interest any of you in my extra ticket, can I?”

The ancient smiled at him briefly before shaking his head. Daniel already knew, nothing short of a house fire could move him from his game. Santino didn't even humor him with a reply. That left the three immortal ladies, and somehow he already knew the answer; Lestat was glued to the computer. It looked like he was on his own tonight.

“Good evening.”

Daniel turned his head to the parlor entrance. His violet eyes fixed on Louis making his way to the couch, each of his movements graceful and flowing like water. “Hey Louis,” The blond greeted.

'If you're looking for company, young one, why not ask Louis?' The Egyptians mind voice echoed in his head.

The man blinked. Louis and basketball? The image he forever held in his mind was Louis in his finely tailored clothing and velvet cape. Not something you see court side in the middle of a screaming audience while an announcer belts out scores and fouls.

But, he was a good sport. It was worth a shot. Turning to find the Creole gentleman nose deep in Dickens, he ignored his mental laughter enough to ask the question. “Um, Hey Louis? You don't by any chance like basketball, do you?”

The immortal gentleman paused in his reading, putting the book down slowly to eye the blond. “Basketball?” He repeated, one dark eyebrow raised.

“Um yeah.” Daniel shrugged, fighting off the urge to quickly explain the sport, certain Louis must have come across it somewhere in his two centuries of wandering. “It's opening night for the Miami Heat, it's a new divisional team, but they're promising. I had two tickets but Armand...made other plans.” He deflected trying to sound indifferent.

Louis paused a moment before glancing back at his book. 'Didn't think so,' Daniel thought to himself. “It's no sweat, Louis. Just thought I'd offer.” He smiled and prepared to leave, until an unexpected question caught him off guard.

“Are the seats any good?”

 

The dark waves of the Atlantic were gentle that night. They rocked the unanchored boat steadily back and forth like a soft metronome. Marius' blue eyes rested on the heavens, instinctively mapping out the constellations he had memorized as a boy; no matter how long he lived, the stars were always unchanging. Just like him. He crossed his legs gently resting into the soft seat at the boat's bow. Across from him, his child sat in the driver's seat, head tilted up, also lost in the astronomic patterns. He looked as young as he always had. Clothed in a dark jacket and matching jeans. He had left his hair long, and tied back to keep it out of his eyes as he drove the boat through windy forces.

“This is nice out here,” the Roman commented. Silence was usually comfortable to him, but to his child he was unsure. When Armand had approached him shortly after dusk, requesting his presence for the evening, Marius sensed he wanted to talk in private. Marius had been glad to take the invitation. For weeks, well centuries really, he had been wanting the opportunity to speak with his child. Was it possible, though? To pick up the conversation just like in the past? Could they ignore their last evening together? That attack on his palazzo? Or the centuries of silence that followed?

He tried to think back to the last few hours, when Amadeo had looked content, almost eager, as they approached the private dock. He was anxious to show him the modern boat that could travel as fast as any land vehicle. They had both enjoyed the speed as it cut through the water, their perfect vision steering them easily through the black night. Watching his fledging maneuver the vehicle around the cost he was so familiar with, was a heartfelt thing to watch. Ah, but you always did love the sea, didn't you?

When he had first brought him to his home as a mortal boy, he was fascinated by the gondola and the various routes the canals could take. He remembered being slightly fearful, as the child had stared into the dark green depths. With his quick abduction and abuse, Amadeo was so out of tune with the Venetian world. Marius felt the need to remind him countless times that first week that as lovely as the waters were, they were where Venice's filth was stored, and swimming was very much prohibited for one's health. 'Oh but that didn't stop you from falling in, during the dead of winter, did it?' he thought, chuckling at the memory.

Armand stopped his gazing, curiously eying his master.

Marius smiled, “Nothing, just a memory.” He replied falling into their old Venetian dialect.

The redhead briefly froze as the old language filled the silence. After a moment he came out of it and replied in the same tongue, “They say it's all going to sink, you know. Venice.” He clarified. “It's only a matter of time.”

The Blond shook his head. “They've been saying that for centuries,” he assured, unaffected. “With the technology to build a boat this fast, or drop a bomb to kill thousands, I'm sure they can come up with something...At least with the right funding.” He smiled, knowing his own charities had been given to that particular cause a few times in the past.

“I suppose they will.” The teen replied softly, the frown on his face starting to grow more pronounced.

Marius relaxed back into his seat, the atmosphere seeming comfortable to him. He soon continued the conversation, remembering that no matter what happened in Italy, they always rebuilt. He paused in his musing when he noticed Amadeo had his 'closed in' appearance. He was no longer listening. “But.” He sighed, “You don't wish to discuss this.” He admitted more for his own ears. They couldn't continue where they had left off. Too much time had passed. “What do you wish to say, my Amadeo?”

The redhead swallowed, a trait of nervousness he hadn't used in centuries. The mention of his old name, hearing the old dialect, and from his Master. He squeezed his eyes shut as the full force of the situation struck him hard. 'Why didn't you come for me?' The question burned on his tongue. But try as he might, he did not have the strength to say it out loud. Three centuries in the darkness, that jaded confusion, that turned him into the enigma he was now, unable to love the things he had. Unable to love the things he wanted to. A brief picture flashed in his mind, blond hair and striking violet eyes. Daniel. But Daniel wasn't here. Around him he could smell the sea, hear the soft unnecessary breathing of another of his kind. The older one, his master was here. What century was it? Such a strange thing to be in this modern boat, when he was speaking the old dialect, and for a brief second felt the tight constriction of his tights and tunic. No. They were jeans, and a baggy sweat jacket he had borrowed from Daniel's wardrobe. But could he have both eras together? How had this happened, his past colliding with his present?

He felt the silk like fingers stroking his hair. Hands, warm from their shared kill, caressing the back of his neck and cheek simultaneously. He looked up into the pale blue eyes. Eyes holding as much wisdom and assurance as they had so many years ago.

“What is it, my child?”

What was it? It was everything. He was everything, and everywhere. Past and present. “Where am I?” He whispered.

Ancient lips parted, kissing his brow. “We're wherever you want us to be.” He answered, pulling the tie loose from the auburn curls. The hands continued their assault, pulling the jacket aside, revealing the pale skin of his, Armand's neck. No, Armand wasn't born from that evil yet, he was the Amadeo from all those years ago.

“Master,” he gasped, feeling the warm lips on that familiar vein. How long ago was it? “Please,” he managed to rasp out. “Please.”

That was all it took for the lips to part, the teeth finding that familiar break in his skin. In an instant all pain was blended, and all conscious thoughts had dissipated.


	5. Chapter 5

“That was the most horrible display of sportsmanship I have ever witnessed.”

Daniel shook his head, “Oh come on, Louis. Let it go!”

“No, Daniel. The point guard frequently charged the offensive player and the ref did nothing,” the Creole frowned.

“What the hell are you so defensive about? I'm the one out five grand.”

“... Does that mean you wont be picking up the check?”

This night sure was shaping up differently than what Daniel had originally planned. When he had first invited Louis to attend the basketball game with him, he had assumed the vampire had accepted the invitation out of kindness, and would observe the game in a polite, yet bored fashion.

He was wrong.

Louis' interest in the game started only a few seconds before tip-off. The reporter watched the Creole gentleman so reformed, so dignified, lean forward in his seat as the ball was thrown. With baited breath his eyes were glued to the court for every play, foul shot, and call. Barely two plays had passed before, he heard the first curses leave Louis’ mouth as the opposing team was fouled by The Heat's own point guard.

“What ARE you doing, damn it? He has no business abandoning his guard! Put it up, he was wide open!”

Daniel wished he could say he had seen the play but he was too busy watching Louis rave, cheer, and amazingly predict each three-point shot before it even occurred.

“Calm down, man.” Daniel said, voice slightly raised from the roar of the crowd. “You act like you've got money on this game.”

“I do.” The dark haired man replied, cursing as the player missed his foul shot. “What is this jamboree?”

“Seriously?” The American asked. “How much?”

An odd gleam seemed to spark in those green eyes, reminding him this man wasn't human. “Tell me, are you a betting man, Daniel?”

That should have set off a warning to the reporter. With those sparkling eyes, and curved smiled, it was like making a deal with Lucifer himself. Sure, the money wasn't a significant loss to his wealth. Armand had invested his entire fortune in Daniel's name. Still, he dreaded the end of each month when his red-headed master would look over their mutual financial statements and comment on each sporting deduction and casino visit.

After being in such an event the blond was always too hyped up to go home straight away. Instead he had led Louis to Collins Street, until they reached Wolfie's Diner. The two sat in a booth, untouched coffee warming their hands, and uneaten bagels spread in front of them.

“Are your finances in order?” Louis asked, after a while.

“Don't worry about me.” Daniel waved off. “You've seen my house...and my island.” He joked. “Are you okay? You had a hefty wager on tonight, didn't you?”

“Yes,” Louis said, keeping his hands wrapped around the ceramic mug. “However, the evening ended in my favor.”

The blond paused. “What are you talking about? Miami lost.”

“Ah, but when did I ever say I bet on Miami?” the Creole countered, a slight curve playing on his lips.

A small feeling of dread was beginning to fill his insides. Suddenly it made sense. Louis' normal calm demeanor, replaced tonight with an uncharacteristic cheerfulness. His elaborate detailing of the team's strengths and weaknesses, had practically been a mantra in the vampire's ear the entire game... He even helped Daniel fill out the betting slip.

“You hustled me!”

A dark eyebrow lifted over the coffee mug as Louis pretended to take a sip. “Did I?”

Daniel’s mouth continued to hang open in shock. Who would have imagined that under the calm facade of old world charm, gentleman death, was a hustling conman from Bourbon Street? Oh, it all made sense now!

“You'll catch flies that way, Daniel.” Louis commented.

Oh, he should be pissed...but oddly, he wasn't. This hidden sneaky side of the Creole was something Daniel had never thought of, when he interviewed him all those years ago. It was just so perfect! He couldn't help it as laughter escaped him, rising up and choking out any intelligent comeback or reprimand he had in mind.

“Daniel.” Louis whispered, casting a warning glance to the fledgling as his preternatural voice started to rattle the windows.

“Sorry.” He managed out. “It just never occurred to me what a bastard you were Louis!”

“I resent that.” The gentleman said. “My parents were well married before my arrival. In fact, they lost several infants before I was even born.”

The new vampire paused at the information, regret filling him. “Oh, um- I'm sorry.” He stopped at the familiar glimmer in his friend's eyes. “You're hustling me again!” He laughed, this time clapping a hand over his mouth before he lost control.

Louis' face remained passive, as he waved the boy off. “Yes, it was a jest. A true jest, but you understand.”

“Oh I do.” Daniel smiled. He was really getting to know Louis, which was a strange thing to think about. A single evening over ten years ago, he had met this vampire in a bar. That fateful interview had changed his life. He still had the tapes somewhere that dictated the man's two century old life, and yet, he really knew nothing about him. It had never occurred to Daniel that Louis gambled or, had such a mischievous streak in him.

Maybe this is what he had been like as a mortal. Louis the human, not the vampire. Did he laugh and joke as a young man, with his brother, and friends? Or had he ever played cards with the other farmers in the taverns and cabarets? Daniel had never bothered to ask those questions. He had simply wanted to know what it was like as a vampire. And now he certainly knew. Sitting in front of him, weather he realized it or not, was the one responsible for his own immortality, for his meeting Armand.

That was one subject he wasn't ready to approach at this particular moment.

“You certainly had me fooled. I guess Lestat isn't the only actor in the coven, huh?”

Louis' green eyes flashed at the mention of his maker. “Perhaps...” He trailed off, looking out the window, at the line of Miami hotels.

'Nice one, Molloy' the younger vampire thought. “Um- I'm sorry, Louis. I know Lestat's been kind of-”

“Kind of, what?” The gentleman countered.

Loopy? Out of it? Cold? Solitary? None of those seemed like the correct adjective to give his friend about his maker. “...Why don't you just talk to him?” He tried. 'Alright, I put it out there.'

“About what?” Louis questioned, but from the tone of his voice Daniel knew it was rhetorical.

“Never mind.” He replied, standing up. “Thank you for the company. I'm going to wander around a bit.” He knew Louis hunted as soon as he woke, but Daniel was beginning to set up his own style; he liked to wait until later in the night. He liked the feeling it gave; the pull in veins was so demanding as his hunger built. Then, when he had finally found a victim, the sating taste of their blood soothed him more than any previous nicotine addiction. 

Maybe he would stop off at the store for a pack of smokes, he had never really stopped to ask himself if vampires could still use cigarettes. It might be an interesting experiment, and it would certainly piss off Armand. His maker hated when Daniel smoked in the house, especially in bed.

'Well then I better pick up a carton' He smiled.

 

Opening the door, Louis quietly made his way into the living room. The drawing room was completely empty, not unusual at this time of night. It was a little after one o'clock, a time when most of their coven was out and about. Even the chessboard had been abandoned, at least temporarily. The pieces were carefully arranged. Each figure was temporarily paused in their own unique strategy. It was little surprise to him that the game was taking so long. He had played a previous match with Khayman at the Sonoma house, and lost badly.

He spied his forgotten book on the coffee table and had every intention of resuming his reading, when the light clicking of the computer caught his ear.

'...Why don't you just talk to him?'

Daniel's question had caught the immortal off guard. He hadn't meant to be rude at the fledgling's curiosity, it was just a question he couldn't answer himself. When had been the last time he had spoken to Lestat? Really spoken? They had shared one night together in Carmel Valley. It had been their first reunion in almost a century.

“Have you forgotten what it was like when we had the world all around us, and no one could hurt us except ourselves?”

“Is that an offer, Louis? Have you come back to me, as lovers say?”

'Non' he thought, Lestat had come back to him. And after that one night of blissful reunion, a six- thousand year old deity had emerged bent on destroying them all. And where was the result? This Island? 

Part of Louis felt like a fool. He should be content. He was alive after the queen had been slain, even though he had been the first to weaken. Still he remembered awaking, and being slightly surprised to have Armand at his side, and not Lestat. His dear friend, had been the one concerned for him, while Lestat sat mad in his grief watching Akasha fall.

Louis did not want to push himself into a confrontation. The two had carried on almost polite conversation these past few weeks, but neither had attempted to break the ice. Underneath that thick glacier was sixty-five years worth of history; hatred, anger, betrayal, he could handle, it was love that he was afraid of.

If Lestat's feelings were-

“For God's sake, Louis! The door is open!”

The vampire flinched, snapping out of his thoughts; he hadn't realized he was standing in front of Lestat's door. Not being able to hear his mind, his maker probably had easily figured out who it was.

Before he could think, the door opened by itself. Lestat was in the desk chair, turned away from the computer to face his fledgling. “Yes?” He asked in English.

“I just wanted to check on you, I suppose.” He improvised, switching to French. They had always spoken it when they were alone.

Gray eyes stared back at him, studying him up and down. He was looking for any sign of disbelief, he had always suspected Louis' sincerity. It was only fair, since Louis always suspected Lestat’s, unable to access each other's minds it was hard to read each other. “Well you've checked on me. I'm still here. I haven't gone into the sun.”

Louis tensed at that. He had heard the others whispering, ignoring their hypothesis about his maker's quiet behavior and solemn mood. 'Please,' he wanted to say, 'promise me you won't do something so rash! Say you would at least tell me, first.'

The clicking of the keyboard resumed. Lestat was once again laboring at his second memoir. His indifference was startlingly familiar. Yes, he had perhaps gotten his wish that night. This was exactly how things were, would they resume this way? Another sixty-five years of hostility?

He paused at that thought. Of course, they had never communicated in the past, that had been the problem. They usually yelled, and screamed, slipping out into the courtyard to brawl. They had been careful never to physically argue in the house, not risking that Claudia be exposed to it. Well, Louis would take it outside, Lestat simply could never back down once his dander was up.

Quickly Louis inhaled, trying to ground himself into those memories. He reached into his jacket pocket for his leather gloves. Grabbing the piece, he quickly walked up to computer chair, spinning it around until Lestat faced him, a look of surprise on his face.

Taking the glove Louis quickly brought it across his maker's face, a loud slap filling the room. “Fiend!” He hissed.

His maker froze, the silence following his child's curse was deafening. Briefly a hand came up to his pale cheek. The blood in him was so strong now, a mark had not even appeared.

Louis held his breath, waiting for the yelling, the insults that would follow, but none came. Usually Lestat's reaction would have had the chandeliers rattling by now. Perhaps too much had passed between them. Part of him thought of apologizing. After all, he had childishly been expecting to get a rise out of his maker. 

Before he had the chance to form words, he felt himself flying back at a speed hardly found on two legs. The wind left his body as his back was flung into the wall. He felt a hand lift him up by his throat, his feet no longer touching the floor. Off the ground, he was still at eye level with Lestat, never making it to his maker's six feet height.

Lestat's eyes fumed, now blue in color.

Perhaps it had worked too well.

“You dare strike me Pointe Du Lac?” He seethed, his French hardening around his name for emphasis.

“Well, look at you!” The fledgling threw back, “Obsessing over these last few months! Wallowing! I just find it very intriguing that you are falling into the same patterns, that you accused me of all those years ago.”

“And what did happen all those years ago?” Lestat roared. “From your little book, it seems that you are unable to recall them correctly. We both know the last time we saw each other was in Paris, Louis! That night you ran out on me a second time! After they threw her to the sun! After our daughter was ashes!”

Louis shut his eyes at the mention of her.

“No!” Lestat demanded, banging his child's head against the wall for emphasis. “Don't you dare hide your eyes from me, Louis! Tell me when were you ever on Prytania Street, after that? Tell me Louis, because I certainly never saw you, and trust me,” he said, leaning to put his mouth directly next to his ear. “I waited,” he hissed.

Louis' eyes opened, staring blankly at his maker.

“Answer me!” He demanded.

Pale lips parted, Louis’ fangs showing as he spoke. “Read between the lines,” he replied, quoting Lestat's own words.

The blond's grip loosened, allowing Louis to slide down against the wall until he found his footing.

“What?” Lestat asked, eyes wide.

“Read between the lines,” he repeated. “You had the perfect opportunity to slander, to challenge my words. Yet, Monsieur Lelio, you failed to rise to the challenge. You wrote an entire history, and barely spoke of our sixty-five years for more than a few pages.” He lifted his head, forcing eye contact on his maker. “You never mentioned either that we shared more than coffins.”

Lestat's pale hands trembled, slowly reaching up to either side of Louis's face. The dark haired man prepared himself, waiting for the blow that would come. It was only a shame that Armand's den would likely be destroyed in the process.

He waited, anticipating the sting of the slap, the force of the blow. Pain was the only thing he was expecting. What he felt, however, was the cold press of Lestat's lips against his own.


	6. Chapter 6

Lestat charged forward, knocking Louis back against the wall. The dark haired man growled, grabbing fists full of his maker's blond hair before bringing Lestat’s lips back against his own. To mortal eyes the two were a blur, shoving, grabbing, and biting in a struggle for dominance. Fighting was perhaps their oldest way of showing affection.

A loud crash sounded as they grappled, it was the not the first inn table that had been their victim. Those small marble structures simply could not hold their weight. Rolling onto the carpet, Lestat ran his nails down Louis' back, ripping the shirt that covered it. The smell of blood bubbled up from those scratches, and as it hit his nostrils, his pupils dilated and he let out a gasp.

“Louis,” he moaned, bringing the blood stained fingertips to his lips, licking them clean. The taste burned his tongue. How long had it been? It was the taste of his blood, of Louis' blood, his child now back with him. “Mon coeur.”

Louis brought his knee between them, flipping them around until his maker was leaning against the gray divan. It was possibly the only piece of furniture that had survived their heated reunion. Hell, he would cut Armand a check later; this was worth the destruction.

Lestat leaned back against the furniture, mouth open, panting for unneeded air. His fingers traced the remains of the Creole's shirt, ripping the rest of it open with his nails until the gorgeous pale skin was bare before his eyes.

“Louis,” he whispered, pushing the jet black hair back from the pale neck.

“Yes,” the brunette whispered, tilting his head back as he felt his maker's lips brush the jugular. “Do it!”

Lestat didn't hesitate, kissing the pale skin before opening his mouth and letting his incisors dip into the plump vein. Louis gasped at his taking, the sound a marvel to Lestat's ear. 

The swoon was taking him back to times long passed. Suddenly, he was back in his own century, hearing the sound of horse drawn carriages, and seeing with the aid of candles and gaslight. They were in a similar position, his knees burned from scraping against the Persian carpet, the tousle having worn holes in his breeches. Louis' waistcoat was open, and the buttons around his lawn shirt were undone, giving Lestat access to that beautiful skin. His child's arms were around him, hands tangled in the golden hair, trying to free it from the gentleman's ribbon. 

Yes, he could feel Louis' own fangs grazing his neck eager for his own blood, ready to reciprocate their love. After taking several pulls from the vein, the Frenchman leaned back. He had enjoyed taking the blood from Louis, and was thrilled that the swoon was filled with memories of their time together, but something was still off. Louis had fed earlier, but was beginning to weaken from the blood loss.

“You never did feed enough,” Lestat gently scolded, lifting them both up onto the sofa.

A small smile crossed the brunette’s lips. “You never did let it go,” he retorted.

For once, Lestat chose not to reply; they were done arguing for now, he was through with their foreplay. “Let me see all of you,” he whispered, his hand reaching to undo Louis' belt.

Before Louis could reply, Lestat pressed his lips firmly against the Creole's. He wasn't going to let Louis’ Victorian values get the best of him tonight. Deliberately, he cut his tongue against his fang, slipping it into his beloved’s mouth while his fingers fumbled with the button and zipper.

The moment the blood touched Louis' tongue, something inside him snapped. The ancient blood, strong and sweet, stung him. His mind was suddenly filled with images; memories. Louis saw himself, mortal and drunk, stumbling out of a tavern and colonial New Orleans. Suddenly, he was on top of himself tasting his own mortal blood; he was Lestat pulling the life out of him. 

Years passed in seconds, tangled limbs in embroidered covers, beds hung with mosquito netting; suddenly the blood was changing inside of him. Louis saw her, the queen, Akasha laughing. She was laughing at him? No she was laughing at Lestat, these were his memories! He felt Lestat's confusion, over his new power, and he was killing, no murdering thousands. He looked down at himself; his pale skin was red and dripping with blood both mortal and immortal. 'I'm a monster!' the thought cried. 

Louis reeled back with a gasp. The shock caused his throat to lock up; he suddenly fell backwards, choking on the blood.

“Non!” He managed, pushing Lestat back and coughing. The blond watched in shock as his fledgling fell to the floor on hands and knees, gagging.

“Louis!” He panicked, crawling to the floor to pat him on the back. “What is it?”

The green eyed man suddenly bolted straight up, dashing from the room in a blur.

Lestat followed him through the den's adjoining door into one of the master bedrooms. He found him in the bathroom, leaning over one of the marble sinks. The cold feeling of shock began to shoot through his nerves as he saw Louis stuff three of his fingers in his mouth, all while watching his torso contract with dry heaves.

“What the hell are you doing?” He panicked, seizing the vampire's wrist and pulling it from his blood lined mouth. “Are you trying to become the first bulimic immortal? I thought you had come to terms with the blood, long before we ever separated!”

“I will-” A rasp cut out from the vampire bent over the sink. After a moment, Louis sat up, looking at his maker. Lestat could see the blood tears welled up in his eyes, emeralds and rubies mixed in some macabre pattern. “I will drink from humans as is my creed, my penance in this existence, but I can't...I will no longer drink from you, Lestat.”

The blond vampire stood there, his gaze frozen. For a moment he was lost in déjà vu. This was Louis going on his martyr rant. Here he was trapped in immortality, doomed in sin, and forever in purgatory with his catholic guilt. It was the Louis he remembered, yes, but even that Louis had never- not even once- fought Lestat on taking his blood.

Taking the blood was affection, it was bliss. The ravenous desire he felt to take it from Louis and then give it back to him was no different from when he had been mortal, and loved through sexual desires. The blood was their love making. And Louis was refusing him.

“What are you saying?” His voice rasped out. He was surprised that he wasn't yelling as he planned. Suddenly he couldn't find the anger, inside he was only feeling hurt. Or was it betrayal?

“Do not ask this of me!” Louis sobbed, the blood tears now flowing down his face. “Do not think that I don't want to! That I do not enjoy taking you into me; that I have not dreamed of it, longed for it for over a century!”

“Then take it Louis, just as I took it form you!” Lestat countered.

“I can not!” the emerald eyes bored into his, as Louis approached him, pleading for understanding. “You can take from me, Lestat. But from those few drops of you I just had, I saw into your soul that your power is beyond what I thought. I will not gain power this way; let me take it in stride with eternity.”

“You are the weakest of us, Louis,” the blond reminded him. “Taking my blood would do wonders for you!” He insisted, hands coming to cup the tear stained cheeks. “Please, let me remake you.”

“No.” Louis answered, the syllable firm and unyielding. He was perhaps the weakest vampire, but his will was stronger than Lestat himself.

Lestat fought back the rage building inside him. Louis was denying him. His Louis, whom he had just gotten back, was denying him the very intimacy he longed for. Yes, he had had the blood with Akasha, but it was not the same. Even confused as he now was, he knew his love for Louis was different, what he felt for the dark haired plantation owner was unrivalled by all his other lovers. Even Nikki was-no! He would not tread down that path. All those loves were gone, except Louis. He would not lose him again over something as trivial as a few drops of ancient blood.

“I want you.” There it was; Lestat had lowered himself to this. He was begging him, laying out his vulnerability, something he had never done before. 'Don't refuse me' he silently pleaded.

“You can have me.” Louis said firmly, without hesitation. “You've always had me.” He insisted, green eyes hardening, from desire or contempt, he wasn't sure. “But I cannot reciprocate.”

Lestat’s rage boiled over. “You're being a fool!”

“And you're being a tyrant!”

“So I am supposed to believe, that you will never take my blood again? That after a century of abstaining, you will continue to wither and be weak! I can only imagine how my 'tyrannical pressures' compare to those years you spent in Armand's company. Why, the former coven master must have tempted your virtuous pallet, with his centuries older blood!” He was baiting Louis, daring him enter an entirely different fight. 

Louis remained frozen; the only movement was the brief flicker in his emerald gaze.

That small millimeter of movement, that tiny shift, caused the very blood in his maker's veins to boil.

The room was suddenly filled the sounds of glass breaking. Lestat had ripped the gold brocade mirror off the bathroom wall and flung it against the marble counters. “You bastard, you drank his blood!”

“Tu es un hypocrite!” Louis yelled.

“Moi? Hypocrite?” Lestat demanded. “You open yourself up to the imp who pushed me off that tower, who murdered our daughter! How long did you wait before you opened yourself to him? Tell me why his five hundred year old poison was so acceptable compared to mine?”

“Those reasons are mine, not yours! I thought you dead, Lestat!”

“That still doesn't explain why you would drink from him and not me!”

Louis brushed passed the blond, heading into the bedroom, his booted feet crunching on the mirror's glass. “It's none of your business, but Armand's blood had changed with him, slowly and through the ages.”

“Ah,” Lestat hissed. “Yes, he wasn't abducted, and given it against his will.” His eyes watched as Louis tore off the last remains of his shirt, before pulling a black sweater over his head. “Oh yes, you’d better go out and feed again Louis! Only a few hours left before dawn!” He taunted, “I'd join you, but damn this ancient blood! I can go months without blood if I needed to. Perhaps years!”

The final nerve in Louis was pressed. He whipped around, eyes fierce. “That will be the day! With all you have gained and learned, you will still be the self indulgent, murderous fiend you always were!”

“Spare me your mortal mourning! You could easily take this, and not have to suffer night after night after-”

“I will not be made into a monster like you!” 

The words echoed within the white walled bedroom, Lestat's gray eyes wide in disbelief.

'I am a monster.' His thoughts had echoed as he stood outside the temple that night. The air was thick with smoke and the blood of his many victims coated his hard freakish skin. 'I am a monster,' he thought turning to watch Akasha, his lovely queen laughing at the carnage she had unleashed. 'I am a monster.'

Louis' gaze fell to the carpet, still shocked at the words he unleashed. 'Apologize' he thought, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Without consciously wanting to, Louis’ feet quickly took him out of the bedroom. Lestat was right, it would be dawn soon, and he would have to feed again tonight, and every other night of his eternal, weakened, existence.

 

Lestat wasn't sure how long he had stood there, but when he finally came out of his memories, he knew Louis was gone and another had taken his place in the room.

Armand.

Looking around the guest room, his host took in the bloodied carpet and broken decor with the indifference he was famous for.

“In most cases, when a guest of mine isn't satisfied with their holdings, I would be glad to find other accommodations for them.”

The immortal teens brown eyes met his. They were passive eyes, despite his testy comment. The same passive eyes that had given him mock sympathy in Paris all those years ago. Years ago when he had pushed him off that tower. Then the damnable little beast had returned. He had dropped in uninvited to his own home in New Orleans only to tell him he had lied about Louis' death. He said he had only lied out of vengeance, because he felt he deserved to be Lestat's companion. Armand had been waiting centuries to simply be loved again.

“Love me and the blood is yours,” he said. “This blood that I have never given to another.”

More lies. He had given Louis his blood. Oh and that didn't paint the mental picture he wanted; these were no visions of Louis, bound and being forced fed. No, instead his sub-conscious formed two sets of pale limbs twisted in rapture, mouths locked at each other's throats. He briefly saw Armand bent over his Louis drinking; from his throat, his brachial, his wrist, down, down to his femoral.

The growl in his throat brought him out of his self induced torture. He felt a familiar building inside of him. A heat pressed in the center of his mind. The same pressure he had felt on the night of his slaughtering under Akasha.

Armand's expression stiffened, his mind warning him of the danger. Or perhaps he was already experiencing the first streaks of pain. Lestat watched the enigma break, the cherubic face no longer a mask, it now held something real, something true. Fear.

“Lestat!”

A hard force suddenly grabbed hold of something deep inside him. Lestat felt a pressure unlike any other constricting his own heart.

“Enough, young one!” Khayman's face came into his gaze.

The Frenchman went limp, allowing himself to fall into the Egyptians grasp. Suddenly his surroundings became clear. He was in the same destroyed guest room, only now he was in the eldest vampire's arms.

In front of him, Marius and Santino were crouched on the floor over a red-headed figure.

Armand! The immortal teen slowly sat up in his masters' arms. A shocked expression carved into his face, his eyes wide with emotion. Lestat quickly tried to remember what happened, until the distinct smell of smoke filled his nose.

Mon Dieu. 

'I lost control,' he realized. “I truly almost immolated him!” Burned Armand! The fiend, the imp Armand. His oldest friend, his brother! He would never wish him any permanent harm!

'I will not be made into a monster like you!' Louis' words echoed in his mind.

'I am a monster.' He realized. His actions said it, and so did the shocked expression of the coven. All gazes fell on him, including Marius' own, those light blue eyes fixed in fear, caution, and – far worse -disappointment.

It was too much. Lestat quickly pushed himself out of Khayman's grip. He didn't want to bother trying to push his way pass the other immortals that he felt lingering by the door. With his mind he opened the window and jumped from the balcony. Five, six stories he fell? It didn't matter anymore. His feet hit the ground and he took off, disappearing into the Miami night.


	7. Chapter 7

“Part of me wonders if this is all some elaborate joke you're playing on me.”

Jesse smiled, turning to face her blond companion. “Oh, come on Gabrielle! I took history classes. These items were not restricted to this century.”

The immortal woman shook her head, still in awe at the store's contents. Her recent discussions with Jesse tended to have no boundaries, which she was grateful for. Gabrielle had spent many years in solitude, having very few contact with mortals or the outside world.

Not to mention in her mortal years, her only company had been her books. It was her only escape from the world around her. When she turned those pages she was no longer in that desolate castle with her ailing husband and seven-or were their eight- sons? It seemed so hard to recall at times. Even in the isolated regions of the jungle, or the wonderful heat of the dessert she would often forget that woman of long ago, or even that she wasn't the only immortal around. In truth, sometimes she didn't care. She was happy with her solitude, her limitless ways. 

But then the dreams had started, the dreams of the twins. The disturbing aspects of it had her traveling to areas more populated than she was used to. She had seen the story before. It had been depicted in an ancient cave that she had seen herself decades ago in Peru. Or was it Guam? The repetitiveness and her intuition told her she had to research such a thing. She had broken into a mortal bookstore, hoping to find some answers in the older texts, when she saw it. There in the main display window was her son's story. 'The Vampire Lestat' under a mortal pseudonym name.

She had stayed in the larger cities after that, gradually making her way to San Francisco. Her son had tried so hard to find her. Well, after two hundred years perhaps a reunion was appropriate. But she still felt like something more pressing was in the air. And oh, how right she was, when that bitch of a woman had risen and taken him.

“Gabby?...Gabrielle?”

The woman turned to her red-headed companion. Had she gone out again? Or the modern phrase, what was it? Zoned out?

“I'm sorry, Jesse. I'm simply caught up in all of this.” She gestured to the garments that hung on the wall. “I haven't worn a corset in over two hundred years, and I simply cannot understand why you modern women would want to.”

Maharet's newest fledgling was simply amazing. Jesse was a modern and educated woman and seemed completely at ease with the world around her. In fact her transformation into a blood drinker seemed to have little effect on her. She did not mope about or prattle about God's wrath as many of the others had, or even her son. No, Jesse took the whole thing in stride and seemed at home with her new place in the world. Perhaps it was the gift of living in such a modern era. Maybe she was simply callous to the things that had been fearful mere decades ago. Or perhaps it was because she was a woman. Gabrielle herself had no need of mourning her lost mortality. For the first time in her life she was free. 

She had been delighted to meet another immortal woman who was so at ease with herself, and her mind. Jesse and her had spent hours talking about things that she had not discussed in years. They talked of literature of travel, of sexuality. Things that had been forbidden to Gabrielle in her times, were so the norm of conversation these days.

Jesse smiled at the older woman. “Yes it is a wonder that women wear these things. I can barely stand a bra.”

Upon their last discussion, the redhead had taken Gabrielle to a shop in Miami, off The Night Island, saying something about 'modern sexuality'. All the Marquise seemed to decipher was that the two were in some sort of boudoir store, that sold under clothing. Until they had traveled to the back of the store.

Phalluses. Cocks. Osiris' missing organ. Dozens of them lined the shelves. A multitude of members each in different sizes, colors, and textures. Oh yes, Jesse had been right. These things had existed, even long before her first birth. The human race always thrived in carnal desire, but did they not understand? To see these things so openly displayed, to see humans going forth next to her, and picking them out in such indifference? How does one explain that? How strange it was? Yet, incredibly exhilarating. 

Picking up one of the display items, she turned it in her hands delicately, the pink object was clear allowing her to see the wires of modern technology that fueled it. “Jesse,” She asked, reading the attached label. “What does it mean by this...four speeds?”

 

The fountains around The Night Island were all painted blue. This act was intentional, causing the clear water to reflect the more custom color. Sitting there on the marble edge, Lestat lazily trailed his fingers in the spray. He had run away from the villa a few hours ago, and he knew dawn was coming closer. He could feel, as all vampires could, the lethargy that kept them all wed to the night.

He should head back and seek shelter, but he couldn't bring himself to return. In one evening he had gone from working on his book, to fighting with Louis, to loving Louis, to fighting with Louis again. Oh and just to break pace, he had almost set fire to his oldest friend. Well, his oldest imp. 

Lestat and Armand had never been very forthcoming with the title 'friendship' but still, after almost setting him on fire, he doubted he'd be welcomed back with open arms. Then again, his dark brother had murdered his child, pushed him off a tower, and apparently run off with his lover. 

Ah, but Lestat was tired. He was falling into familiar patterns, but nothing was comforting about them. For decades he had fought and loved with Louis. But that was all over now. Louis, his Louis, would no longer take his blood. In the sixty-five years they had together, the blood had been the only consistent thing in their relationship. No matter, how horrible, how much they fought, or disagreed, it could all be settled. Louis' tense frame would melt into his as soon as that first crimson drop hit his tongue. 

'I don't want to be a monster like you!'

The words still echoed in his mind. No, how could he blame Louis? He was a monster now. Akasha's ancient blood flowed in his veins now. All that wicked power and dark magic was his. It was perhaps the only thing left of his dark goddess at all. 

No, he couldn't think of her either. That was perhaps the biggest problem. He could not longer think! Every thought, ever memory was simply to painful to indulge in. And if his head wasn't swarmed with his own tormented thoughts, it was filled with everyone else's. The mind gift was stronger now than it ever had been. All it took was a few loose thoughts, low concentration and he could hear every mortal mind in his head. He was convinced that with enough practice he could hear them around the globe. 

So with his mind so damned full of torment, and his emptiness so full of mortal thoughts, it was clear to see why he rarely pulled himself away from the word processor in attempt to escape.

“And where are you escaping? I assumed that book was a recollection of what happened.”

'Marius.' Lestat thought, before turning around to face the Roman.

The man stood before him, elegant as always in a charcoal gray suit, black shirt, and red tie. Oh, there must always be red.

“What are you doing here?” Lestat asked, looking back at the reflected lights on the fountain's surface.

The ancient gave a simple shrug. “I was just curious as to how you were doing.” He trailed off, taking a seat next to Lestat on the marble edge. At first Lestat stayed were he was, not making room for the other. Within seconds, he felt himself lifted in the air by Marius' own hands, before he was placed gently at the Roman's side.

“It's been an interesting night.” The ancient mused, ignoring the glare coming from the younger man. “I enjoyed a pleasant boat ride with my Amadeo. And then we arrived back at his villa to find his rooms trashed, and bloody.”

“And then I almost set him on fire.” Lestat finished. “Your precious Amadeo. Thanks for rubbing it in.” Lestat emphasized, grinding his heel on the sidewalk. 

Marius observed him quietly. “You know I am far more tactful than to mention an incident like that so openly, but since you brought it up.”

“It was an accident!” Lestat shouted, standing to face the man directly. “I love the imp! He's like an annoying younger brother you meet at every gathering that you're forced to acknowledge, but that doesn't mean I want him dead! Yes, he threw me off the very damn tower I gave him! But honestly, I'm over it! Have you spoken with his child Daniel? That boy will drive him mad within another decade! That's his punishment! As they'd put it now: Karma baby! But I would never wish the bastard dead!” The blond finished, all but panting from his deranged rant.

“I know it was an accident.” Marius replied calmly as if they were talking about the weather. 

Lestat paused, wide eyes fixed on the older vampire. “You did?” He asked seeing the other nod in confirmation.

“So,” Lestat sighed, retaking his seat on the fountain. “Then you're not here to kill me.” He concluded.

The Roman smiled, shaking his head. “You damnedest creature,” He chuckled. “Lestat, I do not think I could kill you even if I wanted to.”

Lestat froze. “So I have become that monstrous then? That not even someone yielding your ancient power could end me?”

The Roman stared. “That's not what I meant,” he sighed. “Allow me to borrow your family metaphor. You my dear brat, are like that younger nephew that runs around the festivities stealing all the good wine. You're an imp, a ragazzo...but your poor, poor family can not help but love you.”

“Or keep me in silence.” Lestat muttered thinking of his own mother, his Gabrielle.

“Do you ever listen?” Marius inquired. “I read your autobiography. The detailing of my tale did seem fairly accurate to the conversation we had all those years ago. Perhaps you're just selective.” He mused.

“...I didn't mean to hurt your Amadeo.” Lestat said, his voice steady with its sincerity.

The ancient smiled, shaking his head. “My dear boy, any hurt I could feel for Amadeo, could not possibly come from you. If he means to hurt me, he does not try to hide it.” He said, slipping his arm around the other vampire, and guiding him to stand up. 

The two began to walk, making their way back to the Villa. Eventually Marius was able to learn the cause for Lestat's anger early in the evening. “And then I let the anger build inside me, and that feeling reminded me of how it was before when she...well when I used the fire gift.”

“I understand.” Marius assured. “I am able to control my abilities, because I have lived so long. I acquired them slowly and with the ages. I can certainly see how overwhelmed you must be by this.”

“I'm not overwhelmed.” Lestat corrected, “I'm...well, I'm here. That's all. I can be nothing more at the moment.” He finished.

“We're not asking you to be anymore than what you are, Lestat. If you shared this with us-” He began before seeing the glare in those defiant gray eyes. “Well, you know were to find us.” He said, opening the door to the Villa and pushing the younger vampire in. “Get some rest, we cleaned up your mess. Don't make it a habit.” He scolded.

“Yes, Uncle Marius!” Lestat called out, quickly closing the door to the den, before his reprimand could be heard. Damnedest creature indeed!

 

The room had been picked up, which was a surprise to him. Armand certainly had enough day staff and chamber maids to brag about. Perhaps he simply didn't wish to explain to them the sheer damage he and Louis had inflicted. Lestat had experience with that, when he had lived with his little family in the past...Blood stains on the sheets were rather hard to explain. Honestly, how many virgins did they think he deflowered each night? He grinned, thinking back to his mortal days. He had been the son of a Marquis, next to actor and priest, Lestat had considered love his other calling.

It was some relief to see the gray divan he had been sleeping on still intact, dawn was coming soon and he longed to lay on it and fall into the death sleep. 

However, he had one pressing matter. Switching on the computer, he waited for the word processor to load. His second memoir had survived, though he regretted not saving after Louis had interrupted him. He had lost part of the twin's story. 

'I'll have to ask Jesse again.' He sighed, hearing a knock on the door. 

He stretched out his mind automatically, and felt nothing in return. Just the familiar 'shield' of his fledglings. He prayed it was Louis coming to reconcile, but he knew better. “Come in Gabrielle.”

She had opened the door before he even finished his sentence. She was wearing her hair down. Those beautiful golden locks spread over her shoulders in waves that felt like silk. 'And she hates it,' he reminded himself. She was wearing it for him. “How was your evening with Jesse?” 

“I heard what happened.” She walked in and set down the black plastic bag she had acquired.

“I suspect everyone has,” he responded, shutting off the computer, and going to sit on the couch, inviting her to sit with him.

Gabrielle said nothing in return, she simply took the invitation and sat down. For a while she stared at him, unmoving blue eyes focused on his face before turning away. They sat in silence, Lestat waiting for her to ask the question, he prayed was still on her mind. 

It never came, so he surrendered the answer. “I'm fine.” He sighed, laying his head back, into her lap.

He felt her stiffen in hesitation, before her hand came down to tangle in his hair. “I knew you would be.” She said. Her son was always fine. With time he would adjust to anything. She watched him turn onto his side, facing the door. He briefly nuzzled her thigh like his mastiffs had when they were content. She tried to think back to his childhood. Had she held him like this before? It didn't seem like something she would do. In fact she had very few memories of Lestat when he had been truly young with his brothers. When the boys would wrestle and fence with wooden swords. Sometimes if the weather was warm, she would sit outside and read, all under the guise of watching her children like a good wife should. No, she was never that woman.

“What's in the bag? Is it for me?” He asked his tone almost hopeful. Oh yes, her souvenir from the boudoir store. No, she didn't really wish for him to see it. “No, not for you. It's not your birthday is it?”

Silence answered her. She looked down at him, taking in his brooding expression. What month was it? The southern cities had no seasons to mark time with, and she hadn't looked at a calendar in over a decade. The concert had been on Hallow' Eve, ah yes. His anniversary had come and gone. She remembered that all her children had been born in the spring. When her seventh pregnancy came she knew her body was too tired to carry it to term. Lestat had come in the dead of winter, when the midwife was snowed in her own house.

Gabrielle had no choice but to scream and bark orders at an idiot maid as her breech born son was pulled from her body. 'Born backwards' she mused. 'That should have been my omen.'

Ignoring all thoughts of forgotten birthdays or memories of her dreaded human life, she gently pushed Lestat aside so she could stand up. “Dawn is calling, my son.” She said, retrieving the bag, and kissing him on the forehead.

“Yes.” He sighed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. “Good night, my Gabrielle.”

The woman reached the door, turning around to stare at her child. “Good night, Lestat Christophe Marie.” She said, watching him twitch at 'Marie'. 

Marie was supposed to be her seventh child, her daughter. Gabrielle supposed it was an ordinary wish, after baring six sons. But she had actually wanted a daughter, if only to have someone to share her misery with. She wanted a companion, to have another to suffer with her in that castle. A female to understand, the horrors her sons were, the cruelty her husband lived by. She had wanted someone to loathe it as much as her, and then perhaps one day, they would escape.

Her child and her alone, and free from the others. Together, walking side by side, they would wander the world, and have grand adventures like the ones she had read in her books. But her daughter never came. Lestat had been the last child she had.

Closing the door behind her, the smallest smile formed on her face. Son or daughter, in the end she had gotten her wish.


	8. Chapter 8

Armand wasn't sure why he had awoken in such a foul mood. But now that he was up and moving he certainly had no qualms about sharing it with the rest of his coven.

“Daniel! The next time I have to trip over your foul, grungy clothing I'm going to throw your entire wardrobe into a pyre!”

That was his first attempt at sharing after he had stepped out of the shower, and tripped over the pile of jeans and boxer shorts that lined the marble floor.

He tried to shake off the irritation of his fledgling’s sloppy habits. Normally he and Daniel did not share a bathroom, but since he had given his room to Marius, Armand had repelled the idea of sharing his bathing quarters with his former Master.

Yes, Marius had taken his blood the previous night. Yes, he had awoken in his master's arms after Lestat's temper tantrum, and allowed the Roman to carry him to his bed...and yes, he had awoken this evening still in his master's arms...but it was not something Armand cared to dwell on at the moment. Right now he knew two things; one he had a business meeting in thirty minutes, and two he couldn't find the scissors.

Opening various drawers and slamming them closed the auburn haired teen let out a frustrated growl. Where the hell were they? Cursing he dropped the towel around his waist and threw on Daniel's flannel robe that was hanging on the back of the door. “Daniel!” He called, and then paused. No, Daniel wouldn't need the scissors, he never went near them.

Walking down the carpeted hallway he kept his eyes peeled for the first immortal with short hair. No one was in the hallway, of course with the threats he had been screaming all evening, he doubted anyone wanted to come near him, being in what Daniel called, 'Coven Master Mode'.

“Armand?” A voice called from behind him.

Quickly the redhead turned, all his built up wrath dying when he laid eyes on his Creole friend. “Louis?”

The dark haired man smiled, extending his hand to reveal a pair of gold, yes real gold, scissors. “Forgive me, I forgot to return this.”

“Ah.” Was all red head said, taking the tool. “Thank you...I was looking for-”

“I know.” Louis smiled. “I was informed by the majority of the coven, whom received your...mental demands?” He tried shrugging slightly.

“Forgive my rudeness, Caro.” The teen sighed, “I am sharing a bathroom with Daniel...something I don't recommend, and I'm not fond of-”

“You don't like other people misplacing your things. I remember.” Louis smiled. “I did make the mistake of moving the VO5 oil once-”

“Twice.” Armand corrected. “December 2nd, 1945 and again on February 14th, 1946.”

“I only did that so you could find your present.” Louis shrugged. “It was my fault for trying to celebrate such a ridiculous holiday.”

Armand smiled briefly recalling the memory. He had also awoken in a rude mood then, mostly because he and Louis had been drifting further apart. The brunette had disappeared for five nights straight, only to return the following evening with no explanation for his absence. Armand had risen and dressed quickly wishing to distance himself from their New York flat. After an irate search for his hair oil, fashionable in those times, he had discovered the bottle in the living room of all places resting on top of a brand new Emerson 520 Radio.

There had been no card, or heartfelt 'I'm sorry'. They both knew those things weren't part of their relationship.

Louis had returned later that evening from his hunt, and the two had sat down and listened to the new broadcast of ''Twenty Questions''.

“I still have that Emerson.” Armand said, coming out of his memory. It was in one of his many storage units around the US, but he still had it.

Louis shook his head, “Such sentiment from a person with your net worth Armand? Surely you could buy another, do you even listen to radio anymore? As I recall you quit after the television boom.”

“One has to stick with the times.” The redhead said. Quickly something sparked in his mind. Time? Time! He was late, he would have to tie back his hair tonight, and hopefully his financial staff wouldn't pay too much mind to his massive hair growth since their meeting last month...Well their mental concerns were easily fixed.

“I'm afraid I have a business meeting. If you will excuse me, Louis.” He said, turning to face his bedroom. “Oh and if you see Daniel, would you tell him we're running behind?”

Louis said nothing, he didn't have to. That simple quick in-take of breath was all Armand needed to catch on. “Don't tell me.” He said turning to face his former lover.

“I'm afraid Daniel has gone out-”

“Damnation!” Armand growled, slamming the door to his bedroom.

“-for the evening.” He finished, watching the paintings on the wall wobble .

“Hallelujah!” Lestat called from his room down the hall. “The Coven Master is preaching again!”

 

The blond fledgling made his way through the crowded nightclub. Among the group of hot mortal bodies, he bobbed his head and hummed along to Bon Jovi's ''Livin' on a Prayer''.

He had awoken that evening alone in his bed, which in itself wasn't unusual; Armand was always up before him. Even when Daniel had been mortal, his drunken habits had caused him to sleep late. His post-hangover shuffle to the coffee pot usually occurred about the time his demon familiar was stepping out of the shower.

He wasn't bothered by his maker rising before him...it bothered him that Armand hadn't come to bed at all. Since arriving on Night Island for the first time after his vamping, he and the redhead had been sharing his room. This was hardly out of the norm, since all Armand seemed to use his quarters for was a place to store his clothes and belongings, opting to share his bed with Daniel. Even in the first days of Daniel's hasty making, the two had lain together when the death sleep came.

Okay, so Armand had missed one night. The blond had tried to convince himself that it wasn’t that big a deal. Unfortunately, his assurance was short lived when he came into his maker's old room to find him in asleep in Marius' arms.

Luckily, the Roman was too engaged to notice Daniel's presence in the room, or his hasty retreat. It was likely to be an awkward moment with his vampire grandfather, and he was hoping to avoid it. It still stung that Armand had ditched his plans for Marius' company twice now, but then again those two had a history stretching back five hundred years…

Daniel had decided the best way to handle the situation was to keep his blinders on and stay out of his maker's way. After all, it wasn't as if he and Armand had plans that night. At least no plans he could remember.

A chorus of feminine laughter caused him to come out of his thoughts. Across the floor of the nightclub two young women, a blond and brunette, were eying him, and giggling. Daniel gave a polite nod, before the brunette came over to him. He didn't need the vampire mind gift to know what she wanted. Well, it looked like he didn't need Armand's company for the evening at all.

After a few dances the brunette, Melissa, had invited Daniel to one of the club's private rooms. Taking the initiative he accepted thinking it would be a discrete place to feed. However, this room was not the cozy little retreat for two as he had expected.

All around them mortals were engaging in various activities involving sex and heroine, if he was to guess from the needles being passed around. Of course this was nothing to be surprised by. Miami was no stranger to drug rings, and being in the Latin Quarter of South Beach, this sort of thing was pretty common. 'Well' Daniel thought, throwing an arm around Melissa. 'At least I'll be contributing to the clean up Miami act, with my dinner tonight.'

He ushered her to a less secluded corner, before making his move. He held her cheeks, and kissed her warm lips before going to nuzzle her neck. He could feel the warmth of the body, hear the flow of the blood, and it was his, all his. This is what he had wanted, and he had finally gotten it. Placing a kiss against her throat he parted his lips and savored the bite.

 

“And so, despite the recent crash in the stock market, your financial investments seem to be fairly sound. It seems you pulled out at just the right time, Mr. Del Badia.”

“Yes,” Armand said from his seat at the head of the conference table. “It appears I was lucky. I agree that we should wait and see how the market rebuilds into the new year...Until then distribute the rest of the holdings to my four primary accounts in Europe...And please fax me some more information on the Macintosh enterprise.”

“Yes, sir.” The accountant nodded, jotting the information down on a yellow legal pad. “And Mr. Del Badia, I believe except for the co-signs and reviews that is all the updates we have for you tonight. Anything else?”

Armand Del Badia, was a young businessman, whose net worth was a mystery to even his financial brokers. Together he and his partner Daniel Molloy had built the enterprise Night Island, and now had several financial goldmines all over the world.

“No.” The redhead said, after several moments of silence. “I think that will be all.” He said, reaching for the manila folder which held their financial statements for the month. “Again, I apologize for my partner's absence.”

“Think nothing of it, sir.” The Broker said, pausing to take in the man before him. He was elegantly dressed in an Armani suit, his red hair tied back, my how it had grown since their last meeting..but then again that was hardly unusual, wasn't it?

Quickly Armand shuffled the papers, his ball point pen checking various withdrawals and deposits. Everything seemed to be in order except- The immortal teen's brows rose.

A private check had been cut on their shared account, for a gross amount. This was not that unusual, except the receiving party had the familiar name of Du Lac.

Quickly the immortal closed his eyes and counted to ten, in several languages. Betting was one thing, but betting against Louis? How stupid was his fledgling anyway?

“Mr. Del Badia? Is everything alright?”

Armand quickly stood up sliding the papers over to his mortal agent. “I would like you to cancel all of the credit cards under Mr. Molloy's account.”

“But sir, a card cancellation can cause your credit report to-”

“It's not your concern. Just cancel them. Pay off this 'Entertainment expense' with his own checking account. And fax me the information regarding Macintosh enterprises.” He said, snapping his briefcase closed, and walking out of the office.

If Daniel wished to piss his money away in mindless sporting events he could cash his royalty check from 'Interview with the Vampire' rather than foolishly carry it around in his pockets. As for his betting partner, a Renee Du Lac primary account in San Francisco...well he would deal with that as soon as he got home.


	9. Chapter 9

“Show me the way to go home.  
I'm tired and I wanna go to bed,  
I had a little drink about an hour ago,  
and it's gone right to my head.”

Daniel hummed the melody under his breath as he stumbled through one of the more dreary alleys of South Beach.

His expert idea of the 'Clean Up Miami Act' had not gone over as well as he thought. He tried to prey on the evildoer, to do 'The Lestat Thing', but he was beginning to suspect 18th century diets consisted more of thieves and whores and less on druggies.

The moment Daniel had taken the drink from the Latina beauty he knew something was wrong. The blood that hit his tongue was warm and thick, but as it flowed down his throat he felt a painful clench in his stomach. He had all but stumbled out of the club as the dizziness hit him.

It was not the swoon that he was familiar with. His entire body was burning, he felt the blood sweat breaking out against his white skin. He thought the worst was over, but he was wrong. It seemed as if the toxic blood coursed through his body; it was only getting worse. His vision was starting to get blurry, so he had ducked into an alleyway. This was scaring Daniel, actually scaring him. He thought as an immortal he was virtually indestructible, the blood making him unstoppable. But this poison laced blood was destroying him! It would be like Lestat, when Claudia had given him the absinthe and Laudanum to mask the dead blood.

'Though I think it would be more appropriate if Armand slit my throat.' He thought. “Come on Armand, where are you?” He mumbled. He was sick and he wanted to go back, but he was also terrified to have his maker see him in this position. His demon familiar was anal about his fledgling's hunting habits in 'their city'. 'Oh crap' Daniel suddenly panicked. The girl, what had happened to her? Had he covered up the kill? He couldn't remember, he had been in such a panic.

“Fuck me.” He muttered, raising a shaking hand to his head.

“As tempting an offer as that might be.” An accented voice said from behind him. “The imp and I are already on bad terms.”

 

Armand walked through the front door of his Night Island home. Hanging up his coat he took a quick inventory of the other immortals in the room.

Santino and Khayman had actually left the chessboard, and were sitting on the couch with Marius, watching one of the many films of Armand's collection. It was an interesting sight. The oldest immortal of them all, accompanied by Armand’s two masters , who had a history of setting each other a fire.

The redhead did his best to ignore the scene. He walked into the living room, as if it were any normal situation. “Who won the chess match?” He asked.

“You may not believe it, but Santino here beat me.” Khayman said, giving a modest shrug.

“You're right,” Armand said, sitting on the edge of the leather sofa. “I don't believe it.”

“Oh come now,” The dark-haired Italian said. “If memory serves, you rarely ever beat me at the game.”

Armand looked at the coven master, brow raised. He tried to recall the games they had played in Rome, which in itself was generally unpleasant. “True,” he said after a while, “I don't remember too many victories. But I have gotten better over the past 400 years or so.” 

He liked to think this was true, he beat Daniel constantly. But perhaps that wasn't a feat to brag about. He and Louis had been pretty evenly matched in the past.

“Then perhaps later we can see exactly how much you have improved.” Santino smiled, reaching out to squeeze the younger vampire's wrist.

“I would like that.” Armand said, returning the gesture. “Perhaps tomorrow evening?”

“Tomorrow evening it is, Amadeo.” As soon as the name left the Italian's mouth, the loud crunching of plastic filled the room.

All heads turned to face Marius, his preternatural grip had caused the casing of the remote control to crack.

Armand said nothing. Santino had always called him by his Venetian name. Alessandra had been the one to rename him, and that had been the week before he was sent to Paris. The very thought of the older vampire, and his years under “Les Innocents'' was something he did not want to reflect on. The problem with this large gathering was that he and all these other immortals were disturbingly related. 'Kin' to each other, as Daniel had said earlier. 

'Daniel' he remembered. His child had vanished earlier, causing Armand to attend their share holder meeting alone. “Where is Daniel?” He asked.

“Your young one is still out.” Khayman said, eyes never leaving the screen where “Lawrence of Arabia” played. “The blond's mother and Maharet's child are out again, Pandora joined them this time. Everyone else is still here.”

“Except Mael,” Marius said frowning slightly, “But to come and go has always been his way.”

“And Lestat?” Armand asked.

The two ancients looked at each other, none of them having an answer. “I think he might have gone out.” Marius spoke. “I'm afraid I was distracted...Have you two spoken since the other night?”

“I have nothing to say.” The redhead stated, standing up and heading down the hall to the bedrooms. He paused in front of the guest room that was now Louis'. Raising a fist he gently knocked and waited for the 'Entrez' before letting himself in.

Louis was laying on the bed, on top of the covers with a book in his lap. “I see you're enjoying a busy night.” Armand said, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

The Creole smiled, “Well, with all the demands of my schedule lately.” He chuckled. “An evening with a rock star, the plotting of our race's destruction by a mad queen, not to mention my bustling social calls with the coven. I decided a night in was just what I needed.”

The redhead smiled, laying down on the bed next to his friend. “Ah, yes. You're a hermit no longer.”

“I know, whatever will I do with myself?”

“Hmm.” Armand pondered, wrapping himself around the brunette, and resting his head on his chest. “Not to mention your athletic interest. The word is that you made quite a win on a basketball game recently.”

Louis paused to look at his friend. He knew this game, Armand's Botticelli act. The immortal started his seduction with warm words and caresses, before laying out his silver dagger. “Ah, so you caught up with Daniel, then?”

“No,” He replied. “Daniel's debts caught up with ME. Luckily I arranged a few things with my brokers so his check wont bounce.”

“I never would have accepted his money, Armand.” Louis said, “But he insisted.”

“Oh, I'm sure!” Armand retorted. “Louis, there are two things you are utterly ruthless at. One is feeding, and the other is betting. I can't count the number of times I found you at the track; you made their bookies look like choir boys.”

“You never complained,” Louis recalled. “As long as I was always on time for our evening plans.”

Armand was silent for awhile. He continued to lay on his friend's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat. “But you did enjoy it, yes?”

“What?”

“You did enjoy it?” He repeated, turning his head so he could look into those familiar green eyes. “Our adventures...our explorations...It wasn't my eagerness that made you leave.”

“No.” Louis said quickly, surprised by Armand's statement. “I needed time Armand...You know why, but I did enjoy those decades. Our time together is something...I hold close to my heart. No matter how I seemed at the time.''

The older immortal didn't reply, just continued to rest against his friend.

“I'm glad to see you again, Mon Ami.”

“Moi Aussi.”

 

“Are you feeling any better?” Lestat asked, rubbing his hand up and down the fledgling's back.

“The world stopped spinning.” Daniel said, his voice muffled from between his own legs.

The Frenchman laughed. “I must commend you. After all you were trying to, what was it? Do a 'moi'?” He chuckled. “To be Lestat and feed off the evil doer!”

“Laugh it up, brat prince.” The ashen haired boy groaned.

“Oh Danny!” He smiled. “It's not that bad. None of us really thought to warn you about feeding off drugged victims...I guess we assumed what happened to me would be enough.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But of course, Louis DID sort of tell you these things. After all it was in the book you published.” He frowned remembering that chapter of his own demise. “How did you manage to stay awake, I mean one night of Louis' bitching is-”

“Please.” The reporter said. “Can we talk about this later...” He said, raising his head up and resting it against the park bench, “I want to! Just not right now.”

“Hang in there. The blood will run it's course...Of course it would be better if you took another.”

“I'm full.” Daniel sighed. He had already taken a second victim at Lestat's suggestion. The new 'healthier' blood, was already soothing its way through his system. “Besides, it's getting better, I feel it, just need another minute. I don't know what the hell that girl was tripping on.”

Lestat leaned against the bench, stretching his arms out behind him. “Well, I would offer you my blood, but again your maker and I are not on the best of terms at the moment.”

Daniel snorted. “When where you ever on good terms with Armand?”

“True enough, just take a few more swallows of his dark elixir, when you're snuggled up in bed this morning.”

Daniel didn't say anything. The truth was that he and Armand had not shared blood since his making.

Lestat caught the thought, but didn't say anything. “So...your first meeting with Armand was in New Orleans?”

“Armand already told you this.” The blond said, grunting as Lestat forced him to stand up and walk back towards the island.

“I know.” He said. “But I have only heard Armand's version, and frankly trying to write anything from the imp's point of view is a bit frightening to me. I think...I would like to write it in your view Danny, from your mind's eye.”

Shaking his head, Daniel smiled throwing an arm around his 'immortal idol' “Well, it's a long story...”

Lestat laughed, “Time is something we definitely share in abundance, my friend!”


	10. Chapter 10

“Dear God in Heaven. It's me, Daniel. If there was ever a time I needed you more it would be now,” the fledgling prayed.

“The Chiefs just made their field goal,” Louis said, sounding a bit too pleased.

“Oh come on!”

 

Night Island, Miami

Thursday, November 26th 1987

Thanksgiving:

Most of the coven had settled themselves in the entertainment room that evening. Louis and Daniel were both focused on the current football game. Daniel's home team; The Detroit Lions were almost tied with the Kansas Chiefs'. Louis was, of course, a Saint's fan, but did often keep up with competing teams for other reasons. Financial reasons.

“If I see any money change hands it better be the play set from the Monopoly game, Daniel.” Armand warned from across the room. He was currently settled at the chessboard with Santino. Daniel's earlier gambling with Louis was a matter Armand did not wish to deal with again. The Creole had luck in his blood when it came to betting, and mixed with Daniel's Irish dander, it could cause a nasty plummet in his financial portfolio. 

“I just don't see the point,” Santino commented, moving a pawn. He had a set of them carefully guarding his more important figures. “European Football maybe. But these American sports are-”

“If you say 'too violent,' you're full of it.” Mael interrupted. This had been one of the few evenings he had decided to share his company with the others. He had missed Jesse in his wanderings. “Eric would back me up if he was here.” He whispered to the redheaded woman snuggled under his arm.

“I heard that, and he said he would drop by sometime soon.” The Italian said, raising a brow at his opponent. “What is that look for?”

Armand smirked. “Calcio Fiorentino?” 

“Si.” The black-haired man smiled. “Did you ever play?”

The redhead cast a quick glance around the room before replying. “Yes, a few times.” Luca, one of the boys of Marius' Palazzo, had come from Florence, bringing the medieval football game with him. Being young adolescents at the time, and surrounded by art and , they had taken right to the violent sport. Though they would always play it during the day, knowing the Master despised such antics. 

They would usually sneak out in the middle of siesta dividing up in the courtyard, he and Riccardo leading the teams. By evening supper the boys would trudge back into their home bloody, broken, and battered. It was a grand time! He would hardly even bat an eyelash at Marius' later ravings over his torn tights, bruises, and split lip. To Amadeo, it had been worth it, especially when they won. But that had been a long time ago. When being human had been the only option in his young life.

Armand quickly pushed back the memories and focused his attention back on the game in front of him. He had almost forgotten how good an opponent Santino was at this game. And distraction was one of his best strategies. “I'll take your bishop.”

“Will you?” The older vampire asked, an amused tone in his voice.

The redhead rescanned the board, looking for a trap. Distracted indeed.

Across the room, the football game resumed. Daniel continued to cheer for his team, while Louis watched calmly as if he already knew the outcome. “I'll say this for your Lions. That Bernard fellow is quite a Rusher.”

“Shut up!” The blond warned, pointing a finger at Louis. “I'm on to you, you're going to jinx him!”

“Jinx?” The brunette said, tilting his head a bit. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Yeah, sure.” The fledgling muttered.

 

The night continued on, with an almost domestic quality. It was unusual for so many immortals to be pleasant once in the same room, but so far they were bucking the odds. Khayman had been in the corner observing the entire time. His hands playing with a stone he had found along the beach. Maybe he would carve it later if the mood struck him. Right now he was simply content to watch his little family. Even the beautiful woman, Pandora, had joined them. 

 

Her dark brown hair cascaded in a waterfall of curls around her small body. She had been seeking out company a bit more these past few nights, even spending some time in Gabrielle and Jesse's company. The Roman, Marius, had been ecstatic about her progress. He had told Khayman earlier that she was coming back to herself. Apparently they had quarreled earlier about his fussing over her. 'A good sign, Khayman' Marius had said. 'She is infuriating me, and that is a very good sign that she is becoming her old self!'

The Egyptian had been a bit baffled at that. If domestic squabbling was the norm for those two, he was surprised they had been lovers for as long as they had. But, at least, these things were working out. Maybe he would try to question the Roman about it later. He had left shortly after their conversation to walk around the island, and had yet to return. 

He would come back later. Khayman told himself. If things got too stale here, he could always go and pester the blond young one, Lestat, again. He frequently knocked on the door of the den, in hopes of goading the brat prince to come out. It hadn't worked...yet. But Khayman was hopeful he would come around soon.

The ancient paused in his musings, Marius was coming up the stairs. Oh good, maybe they could persuade the young one together. Then the entire coven could regale in one group. That would be something he was thankful for- or whatever he was supposed to be doing on this new world holiday. 

The door swung open a bit too quickly, something uncommon in the Roman's graceful gestures. His entire demeanor looked a bit strange as well. His cerulean blue eyes quickly scanned the living room, frowning as they settled on Daniel and then the television. Marius' left hand tightened around a crumbled newspaper, as he made his way to Armand who was still absorbed in his board game. 

“Amadeo.” He quickly addressed. “Have you seen this?” Marius gestured to the paper.

The redhead frowned at the interruption before taking the object from his master's hand.

Armand's brown eyes quickly scanned over the front page, before a fury began to build in them. “Daniel!” He all but hissed, standing up and practically flying to the other side of the room. His fledgling ignored his yells until Armand stood directly in front of him, blocking the view of the television. 

“Hey!” The blond protested.

“Is their something, anything, you wish to tell me?” His maker demanded. The tone of the coven master coming into his voice. 

“I-um.” Daniel swallowed, his heart rate speeding up. In all their years and fights together there had only been a few times when he was truly afraid of Armand. And all those times usually began with that tone of voice. “What would you like me to tell you?” He replied as placidly as possible. 

Seconds later Armand had snatched the remote out of his hands and flipped the channel to the local news station.

“...where witness say they last saw Ms. Laszlo at this club in the presence of several other local businessmen of the Miami area. A friend of hers reports that she was last seen upstairs in one of the VIP rooms before disappearing. Again police urge anyone with information to-” Armand quickly muted the TV before reading aloud from the paper.

“Local authorities, and the sheriff's offices of Dade County Police, are now beginning the investigation regarding the disappearance of Melissa Laszlo, revered model, and daughter of Mario Laszlo, CEO of Improve Enterprises.”

“Shit.” Daniel muttered.

“Ms. Laszlo, was last seen at the nightclub, La Castle, dancing and dining with many of South Beach, and NIGHT ISLAND'S high society.”

Daniel winced again. 'Night Island's high society' was journalist code for him. It wasn't hard to figure out since he and Armand were the only high society in Night Island. It was a loophole for the papers to avoid being sued without actually printing the name Mr. Molloy. Daniel had used the trick himself when he was still working as a reporter. Several copies of the Miami Harold, held his pseudo term. 'Night Island Enterpriser is served with another DUI' 'Rumored member of Night Island Society arrested for public drunkenness' 

“Are you listening?” His maker asked, taking the paper and smacking him on the head with it. “Daniel you cannot just feed so conspicuously! Especially in this era, where things are so much more documented! Most clubs have surveillance cameras! I've told you this!” 

The blond winced. He had meant to tell his maker about the other night when he had fed from the drugged girl. He just hadn't expected her to be the topic of a massive media field day. Well he and the police at least had one thing in common. They both had no idea where the body was. Daniel quickly tried to explain this to Armand, briefly telling him the trip her blood had given him.

“...and then I just remember being in an alley, feeling drugged out of my mind.”

The look Armand gave his child was far from sympathetic. “You deliberately fed on a drugged victim.”

“No! No, no, no, no, no!” Daniel defended. “I knew she was going to shoot up! I fed on her before she did...I just didn't know she already had a fix of something before I met her.”

“Young one. You must try to be a bit more careful.” Khayman said from the corner with a mild shrug. Overall, the immortal thought Daniel would make a fine vampire. He just had to learn some things through trial and error. Unfortunately in this age, it was a bit harder to be discrete with your errors.

“That's an understatement.” Marius said. “We have spoken to you before about the importance of covering up the kill! Hopefully the girl's body is lost to the police as well as us.” The Roman's biggest fear right now was that they would have to go search for the corpse. 

Daniel bowed his head, the incessant scolding making him feel a bit like a kid “I'm sorry. I'll try to remember. I do know Lestat found me in the alley, so maybe he knows more about-”

Before the blond could finish his sentence Armand had vanished from the room in a red blur. 

“Lestat!” The Coven Master voice growled.

Daniel looked towards the direction of the den. 'Whoops.'


	11. Chapter 11

“Lestat!” As he threw open the door to his study, Armand was fully the Coven Master of old. 

However, Lestat kept his concentration focused on the computer, watching how his and the others' recounts of Akasha transformed into tiny lines across the PC screen. “What?” He replied, not even bothering to turn around despite the threatening tone. “I'm busy right now Armand, go play with someone else.''

The redhead quickly spun the chair around until the Frenchman was facing his blazing gaze. White, sharp nails dug into the leather chair on either side of Lestat's head. 

“Why were you stalking Daniel?” he demanded.

From just beyond the office door, the majority of the coven watched in anticipation. So far, none had interfered with the interrogation, either to stay out of another's business, or fear of disturbing Armand's temper. Surrounded by the others, Daniel stood, stunned by the question. He had assumed Armand was going to chew Lestat out for the missing corpse incident... Instead he was concerned about him?

If he hadn't been so concerned about the very real murder that might take place in the next few minutes, he would have been flattered. Sure, he knew his maker could be possessive, but jealousy was a whole new aspect. Hell, this was equivalent to roses and a bicycle built for two. 

“Daniel is distracted easily enough by shiny objects and holiday lights, he doesn't need you adding to that handicap with your overzealous romances and crude hunting tactics!”

...And, that was the end of the flattery. Now, Armand was back to calling him an idiot. Throw away the flowers, and return the bike. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lestat stared, clamping his hand around the other's wrist to push him away. “Your distracted child was poisoned by his victims drugged blood. I found him, and HELPED him Armand. Would you rather I ignored him next time he's in such a state, hmm? That will look lovely on the news! More gossip for your precious Night Island! As if it needs any more publicity, after what I have put in my book!”

Armand's brown eyes widened as he pushed Lestat away; the office chair sliding across the room and into the wall. The redhead's attention was now focused on the computer at the desk. “...You DARE to put my island into your ill-conceived book!”

Lestat who was still in the chair, shrugged. “I intend to tell the truth, unlike some vampires. And my fans wish to know what became of me.”

“They would have been happy with your previous drivel! But no, you had to rush out that second edition with that tawdry cliffhanger dealing with the concert!” He quickly turned his head to face the other immortals, mainly Marius. “Are we really going to go along with this? Earlier last evening we were discussing the need for rules. I say, there should be no more books.”

“I agree.” Santino said from behind the Roman. “It was enough when Louis released the first book, but at least that passed for fiction. This... series is a risk for our exposure.”

“I agree,” Armand nodded, hoping to entice the others. “Padrone.” He addressed Marius. “Surely you must agree with us? He has already spoken to the world your secrets that you entrusted to him and,” This part was a bit difficult for him to admit. “...and no one else.”

Marius sighed; Amadeo's brown eyes and pleading tone were a familiar tactic, one he would indubitably have succumbed to in the past. He approached the computer peering at the font, “What exactly does this story entail, Lestat? Most of our secrets were exposed in the first two. I don't think there is much more to air.” He admitted.

Armand felt his jaw drop. “Are you siding with him?” 

“I am not, I am simply asking him a question.” The Roman stated, looking towards Lestat. “Well?”

“What?” The blond replied. “It's my tale to tell! And I will, there isn't a damn thing anyone of you can do about it. You can't stop me!”

“Oh, I believe we could, if necessary.” Marius said, “But I would rather not get into that. Surely you do not wish to test all of us at once Lestat.” 

“Oh he would.” Armand muttered. “You can bet he would love that. Another glorious detail to add to the print. How he battled the last of our coven to ensure his story could be published for his adoring audience!”

“Jealous?” Lestat grinned, rising from his chair and standing before the other immortal. 

Armand raised his head, pushing his weight onto the balls of his feet to balance out his shorter stature. “No, not me.” He said, looking anything but angelic at the moment. “But if memory serves, the credit for these books shouldn't even go to you. You weren't the one to start them, and that-just-kills- you! That you weren't the first to think of it!”

Before the redhead could continue, Lestat had him against the wall by the throat. The newly remodeled room once again taking a beating as the blond banged dent after dent into the wall with the five hundred year olds head. 

Armand growled, wrapping his leg around Lestat's waist. The move seemed seductive and took the French-born off guard. The action was purposeful; once off-guard, Armand brought his head around until he could bite the blond's shoulder.

Lestat cursed as the imp tore through his shirt. The Cupid's bow mouth soon filled with blood as well as bits of the blond's flesh. He swiftly backhanded the older one, his other fist aimed for Armand's ribs. 

Armand heard the crack in his abdomen before he fully registered the pain. Jerkily, he brought his knee up, in the age old reaction. Vampires may be incapable in some areas, but it was still sensitive under pain.

“You little-” Lestat growled, pushing the other to the ground, pinning him there with his weight and greater frame, he began to pummel Armand black and blue. For a moment it was reminiscent of Paris decades ago. “You little prick! Yes! That's what you are!” He said. “I ought to dump your unconscious imp-self out into the Atlantic where you can swim for shore trying to beat the sun!”

Armand lifted his head between beatings, spitting a mouth full of blood into Lestat's eye. “You think the ocean would hurt me? How about I push you off another tower!”

“Oh! Like the very tower I gave you, you little bastard!”

“So generous, you arrogant cun-” 

“Stop it!” 

The grappling immortals paused, surprised that the one interfering was not an elder, but in fact the weakest of their coven. 

“I will take the blame for this.” Louis stated. “All of this did start with me, did it not? I knew that night when I agreed to let Daniel interview me that I was taking a risk in exposing us. I told him to do what he wanted to with the story.” He admitted. “ 'Give it to others.' Which he did to that mortal woman.”

“Anne.” The reporter mumbled. “Though I didn't give it to her, my editor did...” He stopped talking when he realized no one was listening. Oh well it was but a minor detail. 

“I accept full punishment for this.” Louis said solemnly to the coven. After a while the pregnant silence around them was broken by Lestat's abrupt snicker. 

The others stared at the blond, Marius demanding to know what was so humorous. 

All Lestat could do was fling his head back and laugh more. “You haven't changed! Still so damn sullen Louis! It is my fault! Everything is my fault! May God forgive me! And you-” He leaned over Armand “-seem to have broken my nose again.”

The redhead stared, already some of the bruises on his face beginning to fade. “Yes, you deserved it.” He continued with a straight face. “You should be ashamed of yourself...making a fledgling who would act so abominably.” A muscle in Armand's jaw twitched as he fought back his smirk. “Why, first by committing several acts of pyromania and now this.”

“Yes, I really should take a switch to him!'' Lestat grinned. 

“No, for your failures as maker, you should not be rewarded by performing such an act.” 

That did it! The blond gave into his mirth rolling off the redhead and onto the carpet in laughter. He continued on for several minutes his preternatural voice all but rattling the windows. Yes, this was a good laughing fit, he thought holding his bruised sides, and ignoring the sting in his shoulder where bits of his shirt still mingled with his torn flesh. Besides him Armand did not possess the same feelings but smiled none the less, occasionally shaking his head at the brat's odd humor. 

Beside them Louis watched. “This isn't a coven, it's a mad house.” 

“Yes, and somehow I think we all fit in to make a curious little puzzle.” Marius commented, a bit relieved. He had been reluctant to interrupt earlier, afraid his physical strength would damage one of the two. But, after a while of watching the two bloody, and battered hyenas, the mirth somehow became contagious. Clasping a hand to his mouth the Roman tried to suppress his own chuckles.

Louis shot him a baffled look. “You don't think this is funny?”

If he had his doubts, the booming laughter from Khayman confirmed it. The Egyptians voice was as loud as Lestat's. Soon the most ancient was on the carpet as well, embracing Lestat who continued on. This image was even more ridiculous. Armand tried to hold onto his dignity before curling up on his side, his cackles shaking his tiny frame. His hand found Marius' pant leg, tugging on it as he looked up at his Master's face. “He's so-This is so-” He broke off trying to find the words.

“Lestat?” The Roman tried, between laughs.

“Yes!”

And the rest agreed.

 

As the dawn approached the group regained their calm as well as their dignity. Heading off to sleep they had agreed that though another book may indeed be published it was essential that they as a coven agree on some set rules. But all of that would be discussed the next evening. One by one they made their way to their rooms, seeking rest and safety from the daylight.

Standing up from the carpet Armand ignored the several loud pops his spine gave off as he corrected his posture. Glancing down at the stained floor he decided once and for all it would be better to simply pull up the carpet in this room and put in marble flooring.

“Because this house isn't gauche enough.” Lestat said, stretching his arms. 

“Spoken from one who posses more leather than a car interior, I wont take that to heart.”

The blond turned to him smiling. “Eat my shirt.”

The redhead briefly cringed. “I think I did.” He eyed the bitten garment Lestat still wore.

A brief silence passed.

“...Your day staff wont wonder about the blood?”

“They are off for the holiday. I'll take care of the mess tonight.”

Running a hand through his blood-tinted hair Lestat sighed. “Then I shall borrow one of your tubs and take care of my mess.”

“Do as you wish.”

 

As the French-born left the room he paused briefly to mess the already tangled red hair. “Imp.”

Armand smiled playfully, wrapping an arm around Lestat's waist and pinching his hip. “Brat.”


	12. Chapter 12

“No, absolutely not.” Marius stated, his voice firm and absolute.“Agreeing on rules is one thing, but what you are proposing is just an excuse to reinstate your old world laws!”

"Yes, but we must ensure that no rebellious fledglings are left to turn out unruly!" Santino countered. "If we appointed other immortals around this world, we could prevent all the filth from returning. We would never again have to worry about the sort of vampires Akasha sought to destroy.” 

“There you go again! Speaking of Akasha as some sort of Goddess or the Holy Mother she claimed to be! You just want to rule, to have power as you did in the past! But those years are over, Santino! You don’t even believe in the Satan you use to worship anymore. We will have no more Coven Masters on this Earth.”

“Enough.” Eric said, gripping the pen in his hand. “I cannot sit here and record these rules if you two keep changing your minds and arguing the specifics before they are even set as a first draft.”

The ancient Eric had arrived in Miami that night. He had said he was visiting on Maharet’s behalf, but Jesse suspected his visit had more to do with seeing Santino. At least, that was what she had confided in Daniel earlier.

The two youngest fledglings sat in the corner of the main room watching the others debate on a set of rules for their strange coven.

Daniel gave Jesse a slightly confused look “Did Santino just say that we aren’t the only vampires? I thought Queen Psycho destroyed the rest.”

“I don’t think so.” The redhead said, bringing up her jean-clad knees and resting her chin on top of them. “I mean, from what we knew, there were so many. David’s theory was that they practically multiplied over the last one hundred years.”

“That’s the guy you worked for right? In that animal mask organization?” The blond asked.

“The Talamasca.” She corrected. “Yes.” The very name of the Order filled her with unease. She had tried several times to compose a letter to David, but she truly didn't know what to write. What could she possibly send? A resignation? Or some kind of coded letter stating she was alright?

No, Mael had been correct in his advice. It was better to let the order think she was dead…Though if they were a true branch of paranormal detectives, she suspected that they already knew her fate and what had truly become of her.

“We will have no more Luciferian cults!” Marius' voice cut through her thoughts.

She turned her attention back to the living room. ‘Vampire Politics’ were on debate tonight, or as Daniel had dubbed it: “The Undead days of our lives” Though she didn’t like to think of herself as being in the middle of a blood drinkers soap opera, she had to admit there was a certain uncanniness to it.

‘Tonight’ Daniel sent her telepathically. ‘On: “As The Coffin Turns!” Marius the ancient faces off with his nemesis, the Italian Santino, over rules for the future of the coven! Will Armand ever pull his face out of TV guide and say something constructive to elders? And will Lestat ever come out of the den and talk to us? And who is the father of Courtney’s baby?’

“Daniel!” Jesse couldn’t help but laugh, placing a hand to her mouth to stifle her mirth. It wasn’t quick enough. Some members of the coven looked at her, their expressions a mix of reproach and silent agreement.

Eric however, had had enough. He threw down the legal pad resting in his lap, giving up on organization. Santino and Marius had done nothing but disagree the entire night.

“That’s it! I give up! Maharet sent me here to check on things and see what our concerns were as a coven, but I am not going to play the Major Domo to all of you.”

“You’re not a Domo.” Mael said, from his seat in one of Armand’s leather armchairs. “We agreed to do this democratically…that makes you head secretary or something.”

“Mael, honestly.” Marius sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead. “Do you ever say anything useful?”

“Democratic as this may be. Aren't Maharet and her sister responsible for the final decision?” Louis inquired from his seat, speaking for the first time that night.

Armand looked at him, brow raised. “Yes, do you not approve of that?”

“No, I do.” The Creole answered. “But if we are seeking her approval, then this is hardly a democracy; it’s a parliament.”

The rest of the coven stared at the dark haired man.

“What?” he asked, slightly self-conscious with the sudden attention.

“All night," Armand began, “We sit here arguing about rules to set for this coven, and in all your silence the first time you open your mouth is not for input but to correct a theoretical error!” The redhead smiled as he finished.

“Well at least I contributed something, Armand.” The brunette retorted with a smile. 

Armand looked at his former Master and Santino. Both had played such a powerful roles in his long life, good and bad. “Oh, I plan to contribute, just as soon as the others are finished arguing so I can be heard.” 

“What is it you are planning to say, Amadeo?” Marius asked.

“That the old rule of ‘Killing our Kind’ holds precedence," he said passively. "Granted, I used to clear out any city I claimed as my own, but it was for my own safety. And if any rogues happen to come into this city with intention to kill conspicuously, I have no intention of inviting them into my home the way I have all of you. And I think that is more than justified.”

“No.” Eric shook his head. “Maharet has stated clearly that as our kind has dwindled in numbers we are no longer to kill our kind!”

Silence filled the room. A few of the immortals eyed each other warily; mainly the two men from Rome who had been arguing all night. Armand bit his cheek, and turned a curious glance to Louis who’s gaze had returned to his book. Finally, after a few moments of utter tension, the ancient Khayman chuckled.

“It will never happen,” He smiled.

Eric turned to eye the Egyptian. “What do you mean?”

“It will never happen.” The ancient stated again. “Maharet knows this. Our kind, the blood drinkers have killed not only humans, but our own since the very beginning. My first attempt to overthrow the Mother, was with a group of blood drinkers I made, facing a group Enkil and Akasha had made. On and on, throughout the centuries more fledglings killed other fledglings. And then, as more time went by, Masters and Ancient Immortals killed the younger ones to clear out territories.” He paused to look at Marius, Mael, and Pandora. “You three did it. To keep Rome safe for you in the ancient world. You did this before the risen Jew was named Christ. And then,” Khayman looked to Santino, “your coven of the dark arts did it in the name of your beliefs, killing those who believed differently. This continued, you passed it to Armand.” He eyed the redhead. “And eventually even The Pretty One did it to the Theater of the Vampires, yes?”

Louis had kept his gaze down in his book, until he realized ‘The Pretty One’ was Khayman’s way of referring to him. He quickly looked up, then ducked his head either in politeness or embarrassment; Louis would never admit which. “Yes. I set fire to the theater. And yes, it was in the name of revenge.”

“And he tried to kill me too!” Lestat’s voice called, muffled from the office’s shut door.

“Quit shouting out at random times, it’s rude.” Marius said. “We know you are listening to us, Lestat, you could at least come here and debate these things along with the rest of us, in person.”

The others’ attention settled elsewhere. They were all familiar now with the French-born’s habit of making a few remarks but never leaving the sanctuary Armand’s little office had become. So shock rippled through them when the door clicked open and they heard the soft sound of booted feet brushing the carpet. 

Lestat soon appeared in the living room, dressed in a groomed glory that they hadn’t witnessed since the concert. His leather pants and boots were studded; the shiny metal gleaming as it caught the lights of the villa. His torso was draped in a silk shirt, and soft velvet duster, the material opposing to the cold leather, but sharing one common denominator; black.

“You look like you stepped out of one of your videos.” Daniel commented. 

The blond shrugged. “I was going to wander about.” He stated, gray eyes taking in the others. “Maybe even go out and slay any unfamiliar vampire who crosses my path.” At this he grinned purposely showing his fangs. “That all depends on these rules! Come now. I must know them, if I am to break them.”

“The Brat is back.” Armand muttered.

“Nothing has been decided, I think.” Khayman said, eying Eric who shook his head. “I was just stating that killing others of our kind is...inevitable. I don’t enjoy it, but I do not think we can set such an impossible bar and have all of our kind abide it.”

“Then why set a bar at all?” Lestat argued. “Why have rules to begin with? I was raised in anarchy. Both as a mortal and in my vampire infancy. The only thing that changed was that I grew more ruthless with this life...So why fight the inevitable, as Khayman worded it. I say the new rules should be: no rules. Period. New paragraph. End of dictation, or whatever the current vernacular is.” 

“Speaking of dictations,” Armand said, standing up to address the others. “Was this not why we first decided rules were needed? What of the books?”

“Oh that is just like you!” Lestat laughed. “You don’t give a rat’s ass if books are written. The only reason you are protesting this is because I am the one who is writing them! You said yourself to Daniel that you didn’t care much if Louis’ bitching was published. And speaking of that,” The French-born grinned. “You failed to say anything about the fledgling rule.”

“I have no objections against there not being anymore.” Armand spoke. “I lived for five hundred years without making another. And now that I have done it, I can tell you with confidence it is an act I do not intend to repeat!”

From the corner of his eye, Lestat caught Daniel’s grimace. “Be careful what you say, Armand! You never know what the future might bring.”

The redhead glared at him. “Of course. We should all hold you in exemption, like we do for everything else! I suspect you will make another within the year. You birth more into this existence than a good catholic whore. Of course you were sired from such oats, so perhaps you just don’t know any better.”

Lestat’s eyes narrowed. “Watch it.” He hissed, taking a step in Armand’s direction. “Are you so vile and water-brained you would insult my mother here in her own presence?!”

“What presence?” 

Lestat’s footing almost faltered at that. He quickly looked around the room to the coven gathered there. One was absent, one he hadn’t noticed.

“Gabrielle left a few nights ago, Lestat.” Louis said softly. “She is not in Miami, nor did she take Armand’s boat to the islands, like she has in the past.”

“She disappeared.” Lestat said softly. “This isn’t the first time she’s done this. She’ll be back in a few nights, like she has taken to lately. It’s in her nature.” His words were not sounding as convincing as he would have liked.

Regardless of how absurd the words may have sounded, Louis replied. “I’m sure she will.” 

He found himself about to reach out and touch his maker’s hand, but he stopped himself. With Lestat’s moods it was hard to be affectionate. The blond could make the gesture out as either consoling or condescending.

“I’m going out.” Lestat stated, turning and heading for the door before anyone could say otherwise.

The others watched his exit, regarding him and the slammed door that signaled his leave, along with the deafening silence that followed.

“Well,” Eric sighed, throwing the pen and legal pad down for the second time. “I give up.” 

Marius continued to eye the door. “I know Lestat. He can handle the authority of set rules. He just doesn’t want to submit to them in front of us; he’s too proud. Let me talk to him in private, away from our numbers I am sure he will come around.”

“You will convince him of what rules?” Eric asked, rubbing his own temples in frustration. “We still have not decided on anything set.”

“We can agree on the obvious ones.” Santino inputed. “The killings, the books, the fledglings-”

“The fledgling rule has not been agreed upon.” Marius stated, shaking his head.

The Italian’s eyes widened, before he turned to the Roman, a snarl on his face. “You would consider it, wouldn’t you? Making more! The idea is-”

Eric quickly stood up and laid a hand on the angry coven master's shoulder. “We’ll discuss it later. I am too tired to argue, and grow even more exhausted listening to your disagreements. Now, show me around.”

Santino glared at Marius, the Roman’s blue eyes acknowledging the look. Their debate was done for this night. 

“You should listen to your elders.” Marius all but grinned as the other was dragged away like an imprudent child. 

Daniel watched the entire spectacle. As serious as the issues present were, he still had to try his best to conceal his amusement. Sensing that it was ending, however, he turned to Armand, who had resumed his spot on the couch and now appeared to be channel surfing. The redhead's attempt to ignore his Master’s and Santino’s issues was not hidden from the blond fledgling.

“So... if all the fun and coven games are finished, can I go out and eat now?” Daniel asked, purple eyes studying Armand for any break in stride.

“As long as you remember to cover it up.” The redhead stated, hand still fastened to the remote.

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel sighed, standing up and retrieving his jacket. He looked back at his maker. “...You may wanna, you know, come with me, make sure I don’t pull a stupid like before.”

Armand continued to watch the television, setting the remote down as he decided on some documentary about glass blowing. “I think you know better than to take such risks again," he remarked dryly. "Luckily for us the girl was never found.”

“Yeah. I know.” Daniel said, before boldly picking up the remote and turning off the television. He met Armand’s surprised gaze, “But, come with me anyway...For shits and giggles.”

Armand raised a brow, studying Daniel’s face, before standing up. He ignored his fledgling’s outstretched hand, but did follow him to the door. “Shits and giggles?” He repeated putting on his own leather coat. “Honestly where do you hear these things?”

Daniel grinned. “Around.”

**********************************************************************

Later that morning, not too far from dawn, Lestat returned to the island. He discreetly checked the bedrooms, each filled with a vampire that was not his mother. The last door he opened was to the bedroom Louis slept in. The blond quietly shut the divider behind him, knowing its noise didn’t matter. His fledgling had already been asleep for an hour. The dawn came earlier for his child than for the others. 

Taking off his velvet jacket, he tossed it onto a nearby chair, before settling himself down on the bed beside Louis. He did not hesitate as he turned on his side and wrapped his arms around the dark-haired being. Resting his head against the silken locks he inhaled the familiar scent. Tonight it was mixed sandalwood and smoke. He hoped that was cause of the candles Louis was so fond of lighting and not any pyre mischief from the olden days.

“Gabrielle will come back,” Lestat said, ignoring that Louis couldn’t hear him in his death sleep. “You know how I know? She left her bag. That ratty torn thing she carried with her from California. Maybe I should get her another one. Something sturdy with lots of pockets...But I’m afraid she’d reject it. Can you imagine that Louis?” He asked, fingers absently stroking his fledgling’s hip. “Me, Lestat, afraid, that my mother would reject my gift...Though in some ways she already has. I think that’s why she has been on her own all these years. It was her way of rejecting my greatest gift.”

He continued to lay there, making his little observations to Louis. Confiding them in his sleeping love, as if Louis were some holy priest and he the sinner was seeking absolution. He whispered his thoughts until dawn came for him. 

Remaining by Louis through the day, Lestat slept until that evening when he woke. And then delicately, as discreetly as he had arrived, the blond left. He took his jacket and all evidence of his stay with him, and exited the room.

An hour later, Louis awoke, oblivious to his maker’s company or the comfort he had sought in his old lover’s bed.


	13. Chapter 13

“You're full of shit!” Daniel said.

“It's your call,” Louis replied solemnly, his face the picture of calm.

“Alright,” the blond grinned, “raise you five!” He pushed his chips to the center of the table.

Louis gave a slow shrug, and pushed a few more chips into the center of the green felt. “Raise seven.” 

Daniel narrowed his eyes taking in the creole's bored expression. “Damn it, I fold!” He cursed, throwing his cards down on the table. 

The brunette eyed the now upturned cards, “A strait? And you were sure I would beat that?” 

“I can't tell,” Daniel admitted. “You've got the number one poker face. But with the luck you've had tonight you probably have a flush.”

“You'll never know.” Louis smiled, adding his cards to the deck and shuffling, so his hand wasn't given away.

The blond mumbled something before lighting another cigarette. Armand hated it when he smoked in the villa, but currently they were in Daniel's 'cave,' as he dubbed it. The cave was actually a game room in one of the lower levels of the mansion. Daniel had a few poker games down there before, and now he and Louis were having another face off.

Jesse watched from one of the empty chairs, she had been offered a spot in the game but kept declining, saying she was inexperienced.

Louis looked at her as he continued to shuffle. “Would you like me to deal you in this time?” He asked politely.

The redhead tried not to bite her lip, an old habit. “I don't know...You're pretty good.”

Louis smiled. “Yes, but luck is a lady.”

Jesse looked a bit uncertain. “...For you or for me?”

Daniel laughed at that. “She has a point!”

“Come now,” Louis said, nudging the cards toward Jesse to cut. “It wont be that bad.”

Jesse nodded before cutting the cards and passing them to Daniel for another shuffle. “...Nothing personal.” She apologized to Louis.

The brunette simply shrugged. “Beginner's preference.”

Daniel started to deal when he heard the hall door open. “Daniel?” Armand's voice called. “I need you to come to one of the clubs with me, there is a managerial dispute that needs to be del-” The immortal paused his sentence when eyed his fledgling and the cards in his hand. He sighed, casting a glare at the blond as well as Louis. “Never mind. I'll take care of it myself.” He said curtly, before pivoting on his heel and leaving the room.

Daniel grimaced a bit, before handing the cards to Jesse. “.....Deal me out for this hand, okay?”

Jesse cast a nervous look at Louis as the blond stood to leave. “Um... are you sure? We can wait for you.”

The creole gentleman smiled at her. “It's alright, if you'd rather wait. Would you like me to go over the rules, again?”

“Yes, actually,” she agreed. “Now, what beats what?”

 

“Armand!” Daniel called running to catch up with his maker. He still had his cigarette in his hand, which he quickly threw down and ground out as they reached the patio. “Wait, wait, wait! What'd I do this time?”

Armand looked at him, brown eyes narrowed. “Nothing.”

“This is about gambling with Louis again, isn't it?”

The redhead remained silent. His disapproval clear by his expression.

Daniel sighed. “Look, just what did you say before? Something with the clubs? Are the waiters on strike again?”

His maker sighed, shaking his head. “A detective has been hounding one of the managers whom saw you at the club the night that girl 'went missing'. I need you to speak with him. Clear it up, so it isn't problematic later.”

“...Problematic how?” He asked confused. “I'm not a suspect, or anything that they know of.”

“No. Daniel.” Armand said reproachfully. “But you DID kill her. And if the authorities have unanswered question they may come HERE and ask them. Here! Most likely during the day. And if we continue to be unavailable for questioning during the day, they could come into this house with a warrant and search it. Do I need to spell out for you how problematic THAT would be?”

“No.” He sighed, he knew what the cops could do. He had written several articles about privacy rights and other such rants that he was sure put him on a few 'naughty lists' with the government. “I'll talk to him," he sighed, then winced as a thought hit him. “But what the hell do I say? I'll have to lie obviously. Can't you just mind spell him or something?”

Armand looked at him, a peculiar look falling over his cherub face. “Can't you?” He said with a small smile.

Violet eyes widened in surprise. “I-” He thought about it, realization setting in. He was a vampire now! In the past Armand had dealt with all the matters with the authorities. All of Daniel's court dates for his DUI's and other drunken charges had been dealt with, with whatever mental mojo his demon familiar possessed. But now Daniel was of the same species. And vampires could spell-bind... some could anyway. Was he one of those few? Yes, he could hear thoughts, and transmit them, fairly well in fact. But could he spell an individual, plant a idea or image into their brain so they would believe his every word? “I don't know if I can.” He admitted.

“And you wont know,” Armand said patiently, “until you try. Come.” He said holding out his hand.

Their had been so much tension and distance between the two those past few weeks, but suddenly Daniel couldn't sense any hostility. He did not hesitate as he reached out and took his maker's hand and began to walk with him, shortening his steps, so Armand's shorter gait could keep his pace. “So... Is this like another lesson?” He asked as they passed the final security gate of their home and headed for the main strip of the Island. “Like covering up the kill, and finding a safe place by dawn?”

“Maybe.” The other replied softly.

Daniel nodded, his finger's intertwining with his maker's. “Maybe, huh?” He smiled, bending down to kiss the white cheek. “I don't know. I smell an ulterior motive.”

“That motive only exists in your mind, beloved.”

“Well I would certainly know,” he laughed.

Armand frowned, slowing down his pace. 'And I,' he thought to himself. 'shall never know that, or what goes on in your mind, ever again.'

*****************************************************************************

 

“I don't think he's coming back.” Jesse said.

“Non, but I think it's for the better." Louis said stacking the cards up and putting away the chips. "Daniel and Armand probably require more time together than they receive with our immense company.” He and Jesse had played a few hands. Jesse had surprisingly won each game, but she highly suspected that Louis was throwing them, either to be a gentleman or to ease her into a false sense of security... She really wasn't sure which.

“It's hard to have a lot of privacy here.” Jesse agreed, standing up as the two made there way back to the main floors of the home. “... I wonder how long everyone is going to remain here.” The truth was as comfortable as the island was, it was hard for a vampire to remain there with a dozen others. 

Gabrielle had come back after all, making an appearance for one night as if to reassure her son, before disappearing again two nights later. Jesse didn't know what to make of it. She missed the blond woman's silent company, and so, she had discovered, had Khayman. Though what those two discussed she was hesitant to inquire about.

All she hoped for was that she would be able to say goodbye to her before her own departure. Eric was pressing her to return with him. He insisted that Maharet wanted their company. The redhead did miss her dear Aunt, but was hoping to stay for a little longer, or at least through the holidays. But would they even celebrate? She looked at Louis who was walking silently by her side. Did he, or the others celebrate Christmas? Or Yule? Maybe the idea was a bit absurd...but certainly New Years was something to mark off?

Louis must have noticed her gaze because he paused his steps to ask if she was alright.

“Oh, yes. I was just wondering. How long are you planning to say here, Louis? Were you planning to return to San Fransisco? Or maybe New Orleans?”

Louis sighed, “New Orleans,” he began as they started walking again. “I-I don't know, there are so many memories there for me. I can easily have a house in New York or San Fransisco, but...it's...” He shook his head. “They are not home for me, not in the way She is.” He thought, holding open the front door as they made their way into the living room.

Jesse smiled as she passed through it. “It is a lovely city. I don't think I've ever been anywhere quite like it.”

“There is none like it.” Louis said with a fondness, before taking a seat on one of the sofas. “... Jessica, I know I have asked you this an obscene number of times already, but.”

“Louis,” she smiled softly and shook her head. “It wasn't real. She is gone, crossed over. I am certain.”

“But how?” he asked in a pleading voice, leaning forward in his chair. “How do you know she's crossed over into some divine realm? Do you think we all go there? And is it pleasant? Would she have suffered before finding her way there?”

“I just-” Jesse began, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “The best way to understand-”

“For fuck's sake Louis, she's gone!” Lestat's voice shouted, interrupting the spiritual debate.

Louis looked up to see his maker standing in the doorway, his blue eyes blazing with fury. “She's gone!” He repeated, waving a stack of bound papers in his hand. “Why do you have so much trouble accepting that? Would you prefer that she was a ghost haunting that place, so she could suffer for eternity? Would that make you feel any better? God dammit accept it! She's in Heaven, Hell, or simply out of existence all together!”

“But Lestat-” The brunette stood up. “What if her burning caused her to-”

“Damn you! She's gone! I scattered the ashes myself! Surely you read about that, did you not? Now stop these mad questions and be done with this, just as she would have been with you!” 

Louis remained silent for a few moments, a sobering look spreading over his face. “Oui.” He finally said. “You are correct Lestat. Had it been I who had perished...she would not have spent her eternity pondering my remains or my soul...would she?” He asked, his green eyes piercing his makers.

Lestat said nothing.

“Would she?” Louis repeated, his tone hardening. “Damn YOU, would she?” He asked after receiving more silence.

The Brat said nothing, instead he threw the bound pages down onto the table in front of him. 

“It's done.” Was all he said, before turning and exiting the room, the sound of the front door slamming soon echoed his leave.

Jesse tentatively looked at the cover page of the large stack, the words “Queen of the Damned” were written across it. She then turned her gaze to the brunette, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“Louis,” she tried.

“Non... he's right. Excuse me.” He said heading for his room. Claudia was gone, she had been for over a century. But he still could not soothe his stirred nerves after hearing Jesse's tale. If she was still angry, or trapped in his old home...

He shook his head at the thought of it. There was only one way to make certain. Before dawn arrived he packed a bag, and made a flight reservation for the following night. 

He was going home.


	14. Chapter 14

It was well after three by the time the two immortals made their way back from the Night Island club district towards the villa. The air was still and relatively quiet with the coming morning. Daniel's laughter was the only thing that seemed to fill the silence between the two immortals, masking their almost silent footsteps. 

 

“Oh come on you have to admit it was funny!” The blond snickered.

 

Armand shook his head, causing the red curls around his face to shift. “How is your abusing your fledgling powers humorous?”

 

“You were the one who encouraged me to use my ‘fledgling powers’ in the first place.” 

“Don’t remind me,” the immortal teen sighed. 

As they had planned they had headed to meet the officer in charge of the Melissa Laszlo case. After a few routine questions, Daniel had given his statement saying that he had simply danced with the girl, and did not know anything else about her. 

 

“And that’s all?” The investigator asked. “She’s a very pretty lady. Why just a few dances, didn’t you wanna take her home?”

 

Daniel had smiled, trying to conceal his fangs. “Who wouldn’t? But I wasn’t feeling well so I left the club early.”

 

“Hmm.” The man frowned. “And at the time you say you didn’t recognize her as Melissa Laszlo, even though your business deals directly with her father’s company?”

“What can I say?” Daniel sighed, getting a bit tired of the officer. “I skipped the company softball games.”

 

“Don’t be a smart ass with me, you rich scum! I know all about you and your history. You rich CEO’s think you have all the money and you get to play God. Well you need to learn that you can’t get away with everything.” The officer warned. “I find out your lying I’m going to-”

 

“You wont do a thing.” Armand said, speaking for the first time since the introduction. He held his brown gaze to the older officer. “You came, you asked your questions, and you have no doubt the Mr. Molloy is innocent. Yes?” The mortal’s eyes were suddenly wide, glazed almost. Daniel stared into them watching the hostility fade.

 

“Daniel.” Armand whispered. “Your turn, find his mind, the very center of it. Now implant your thoughts, the statement you gave. Make it as true as you can.”

Daniel concentrated, his own mind suddenly feeling so strong, he was afraid of crushing the other’s brain with too much effort. He finally found the cop’s mind and locked onto it. “Melissa and I only danced a few times…Then I went home. I have no idea what happened to her.” As he said this he tried his best to forget that he had followed her upstairs, had ignored her offer to get high, instead he had fastened himself onto that tiny tan throat…

“You have no idea what happened to her.” The man repeated, his voice dazed, sleepy.

 

“Very good, Daniel.” Armand said, resting a hand on his shoulder, as if trying to pull him back into reality. “Now let go…I’m sure officer Lopez has a lot to do, and we have a meeting first thing in the morning, yes?”

 

“Yes.” The mortal continued. “Thank you for all your help.” 

 

The vampire nodded, pulling on the blond’s arm, so they could leave. Daniel stood up slowly, still drunk with this new power. ‘I can control minds’ he realized, grinning. ‘I can finally do what Armand has done for centuries’ …and it was meant to be just an observation, a fleeting thought. But he could not help himself. He locked his mind on the cop’s again before speaking, “Bark like a dog!”

 

Before the first ‘woof’ could be issued, he felt a blow to the back of his own head, Armand’s fist, he later realized as he was pulled from the establishment.

 

Now in retrospect it was probably not the brightest stunt to pull, but it was humorous!  
“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean to do it! It just slipped out…Maybe later I can find a group of midgets and get them to sing ‘Me and My Shadow’ for you,” the blond offered.

Armand shook his head. “You say, you’d do it for me, but I think we both know who the real entertainment was for.”

 

“But I did do it!” Daniel paused, violet eyes wide. “I mean…doesn’t that mean anything? I spelled or whatever you call it. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” He asked, curious.

It certainly did mean something to Armand. It meant the Daniel was strong and powerful, and would no longer need him to get out of trouble. He would no longer need him at all.

 

“Did you mean what you said the night of the concert.” His fledgling interrupted. “…About how I turned out?” 

Armand’s brown eyes widened. “…Is that what concerns you?” He asked surprised “Daniel,” he placed his hands on the man’s pale cheeks, “I love how you have turned out.” A brief look of affection flashed in his eyes. “My firstborn.” He whispered, his thumb tracing the pink lips still warm from the previous kill. Could he ever express what that meant, to go five hundred years without making another? To watch mortal servants, and acquaintances pass on, knowing you could never damn them the way you were. But here Daniel was, and he had asked for it from the very beginning. For twelve years, he had been in Armand’s company wanting nothing more than to join him in the blood, ‘So I can join you forever’, he had said. 

“You made me break my rule.” He whispered. 

“I’m glad you did.”

 

“You would have died.” He confirmed. 

 

“One way or another.” The blond smiled.

 

“You’re my first.” Armand said again, still amazed by it. And he was. Daniel was the first person perhaps to ever truly belong to him. He was his in a way Marius could never be. Or Louis…and certainly never Lestat. 

He was so distracted with his thoughts he did not notice Daniel’s hand pulling him closer, or when the touch of his hands turned from gentle caresses to urgent strokes. He looked up noticing the violet eyes were so much closer, but still so wide, and bright. Death had not taken the light out of them…there was mild relief in that. He sighed, tugging on the back of the blond vampire’s head, and standing on his toes so he could taste the blood-warmed lips. ‘Mine for now…but how much longer?’

In the end they always left him. Would Daniel do the same? He tried not to think about it. And it was easy to get distracted in his child's arms. Daniel ran his hand through Armand’s curls, caressing the auburn locks as he pushed his tongue into the other’s mouth, running it along the sharp incisor. 

 

Armand quickly pulled back. “Not here,” he said, a bit out of breath. “Let’s go home.” Daniel frowned. “It’s crowded.” Armand shook his head. “Trust me, no one will dare disturb us.” True to his word when the two made it back to the villa, there was not another presence about. The usually crowded sitting room was deserted. Daniel wasn’t sure if this was because of the early hour, or that they had sensed his and Armand’s urge for time alone…well he didn’t really care. 

 

Armand grabbed his hand and proceeded to lead them down the white carpeted hallway to their bedroom. They were almost there when the immortal teen paused in front of Louis’ door tilting his head as if he was trying to eavesdrop.

 

“What’s wrong?” The blond asked, eager to move on.

 

“…Nothing.” Armand replied, quickly pulling Daniel into the room and shutting the door behind him. They took their time, the urgency seeming to fade as they made their way into familiar surroundings. The linen layers of sweaters and shirts gave way to probing hands and lingering kisses. 

Laying down, Armand gasped at the swaying sensation, he had forgotten Daniel had a water bed. The blond smiled down at him, lips once again finding his. The redhead closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations of lips, limbs, and fingertips all teasing him caressing and stirring his preternatural senses.

Daniel was using his teeth now, nipping at Armand’s jaw, and working his way down to his throat. Once there he kissed over the immortal’s pulse before latching on and sucking on the skin.

Armand smiled, feeling the tongue tease his skin. “Are you planning to leave a mark? Brand your initials into me, perhaps?”

 

The blond smiled pulling away briefly. “What would you rather I do?”

 

“This!” Armand whispered, before reaching up and biting the fledgling, right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Daniel gasped, feeling the fangs sink in, his heart thudding with each swallow his maker took of his blood…the blood he had given him.

“Ahh,” he groaned, the dizziness of the swoon coming over him. He felt Armand’s teeth slowly pull out, followed by tender kisses trying to drink up any left over blood. 

The redhead pulled away from his throat, lips continuing to caress his face until they found the his mouth. Daniel felt a brief zing, as his tongue touched Armand's, tasting not only his blood but his maker’s as well. He sucked on the wound, feeding on the powerful nectar, until the dizziness overpowered him. He panted, pulling away and rolling over them both over until Armand was top of him. 

The redhead smiled down at him, hand petting the mop of blond hair, some strands sticking with blood sweat to his forehead. 

“My Daniel.” He smiled, kissing him and watching the violet eyes grow heavy with fatigue. “Sleep, beloved.” Daniel nodded his head, the combination of the swoon and dawn calling him to rest. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered, twirling one of the red curls around his fingers. “So fucking beautiful.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Daniel closed his eyes, sighing. “Love you, my demon familiar.”  
Armand lowered his head on the fledgling's chest, listening to the thudding heart. “I love you too, Caro Mio,” he whispered, closing his eyes, and falling into dawn’s sleep.

 

The next evening when Armand awoke he had to untangle himself from Daniel’s arms. As much as he wanted to stay and enjoy his lover’s embrace he knew he needed to confront Louis before his departure to New Orleans. As he slid out of the bed he felt a small pinch to his hip.

As he turned, he caught Daniel tucking his hand back under the sheets. 

“I must have slept in, if you’re already awake.” He greeted.

 

“Mmm. Still tired.” The blond mumbled.

“Sleep, I shall be back in a moment,” Armand said.

Daniel nodded, violet eyes closing before his maker had finished dressing. 

 

Leaving the room the redhead walked across the hall to Louis’s room where he gave two brief knocks before opening the door. “Come in.” Louis sighed at the already open door.

“You’re leaving?” The redhead asked.

“Tonight…But I suppose you already knew that.”

The redhead sighed. “This is because of Lestat?”

“Non.” Louis shook his head. “I just need to check on something.”

“I see.” He said. “…Well you picked the right time. He’s gone out send those damn manuscripts…He wont notice your leaving.”

“He’s been so distracted lately, he wouldn’t notice my leaving if he was standing at the front door as I passed through it,” the Creole sighed. “…Armand I am asking you to not tell him I have left.”

Armand shook his head. “I can’t promise that, but I will give you a head start.”

Louis smiled. “Thank you.”

The two continued to stand in silence before embracing. “I wish you'd take my jet," Armand insisted, "It's not too late to cancel your flight.”

“A shared plane is fine, Armand. I will be safely landed by dawn.”

“Yes, at least to New Orleans you're going towards the night.” The redhead said, picking up his suitcase. “...But, you know... That is not your only home now. You have one here. Night Island will always be open to you.”

“Merci, Merci beaucoup." Louis said, kissing the older vampire' cheeks. “And I will come back, as soon as I have taken care of this...I just need to be sure of-”

“I know. I will see you soon, yes?”

“Yes.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Oui....That's what I said. Fifteen on the paperback, and twenty-five on the hardcover...That is what we agreed on last time, chérie, is it not?” Lestat leaned against the counter of the little quick-mail store. He had taken the copies of the manuscript there, and easily persuaded the girl at the counter to let him use the phone to call Christine, his lawyer. “Non, non.” He winked at the shy clerk whom had been staring at him. “This is merely a rough draft, cherie, to keep on file...Soon enough... things are resolving...Merci, Christine. Bonsoir.”

Hanging up the receiver, he threw another wink at the little shop-girl before exiting into the humid Miami night. It gave him a mild sense of peace to be in the mortal crowds, and though his thirst now was so much greater than before, he was slowly growing accustomed to it. His white body, his god like strength...he had even been tempted to attempt the cloud gift again, though for some reason he always hesitated on that.

Perhaps it was Marius' influence. The greatest leap into true immorality was when one could fly into the stars like a night bird, simultaneously stripping away the last layer of their human skin. These cautions that Marius had placed in his head kept him grounded to the Night Island on booted feet. Very wonderful stylish boots, naturally, even if they were borrowed from Daniel. Armand dressed his pet well. Lestat had really considered taking the boy with him, though he knew that it would start World War Three, as they said in these times, between the imp and himself. 

Lestat sighed, hating to admit Armand could be a permanent pain in his gorgeous ass, but he did love him...most of the time. And he did hope he would always be around. Who else would he bother?

The Ancients, though a fascinating bunch, seemed to have a sense of humor that was as faded as their mortal coloring. Khayman could be devilishly charming. Already he was blending into this era with a comfort and ease that could only come from seeing six millennia. Pandora, like her name sake, was an embodiment of secrets and intrigue. She appeared to be gradually coming out of her silent wonderings. She had filled her previous nights with music and Armand's extensive media collection, but now she seemed to be more outgoing spending the evenings in Jesse, Gabrielle, or even Santino's company. The latter, of course, infuriated Marius, causing the two Roman borns to argue so viciously and childishly that it bordered on the comical.

Marius probably wouldn't agree, but it was his way to appear dignified and courteous. He liked to play the wise scholar, the knowledgeable father figure to Lestat and the other 'young ones'.

Thinking of their latest encounter the previous evening made the brat sigh. What would happen if he were to fly to London on a whim? To dig up 'The Temptation of Amadeo' and bring the painting back? Oh, but it was such a dreadful thing to carry! Perhaps he would simply take a snap-shot of it with one of those wonderful self developing cameras? That way he could run copies off, and give them to the rest of the coven. Perhaps he could even persuade one of those Talmascan scholars to take a photograph of him with the painting, posing next to it? In Amadeo's mock innocence of bended knees and prayer clasped hands...

The whole idea of such made him chuckle with revigored delight. He would find a way to regain his fiendish reputation yet!

Lestat's mirth continued all the way back to the villa, causing some of the other immortals to give him curious stares upon his arrival.

“What?” He said, daring them to contradict his good mood.

“Louis is gone.” Marius said from behind his folded newspaper.

“What do you mean, gone?”

“To New Orleans,” Armand said so nonchalantly Lestat wanted to strangle him. “To the flat you had there. The one where Jesse saw Claudia.”

'Whom you killed.' He wanted to shout... But any attempt at a sharp retort was frozen within him. Louis had left, and to New Orleans of all places! But why?

'For fuck's sake Louis, she's gone!' His own words echoed in his mind. 'Damn it all.' How incredibly predictable was Louis, running off to the very city that housed his torment and misery. And how long would he stay there, staring at that demolished Rue Royal home? Until dawn came and caused him to seek shelter under the burnt out floors? Or would he simply lay down in their daughter's old bed, among the dust and old doll bits, settling himself into a cocoon of self pity for another hundred years?

“My man can drive you down to the landing strip.” 

“Ah, now you're all so helpful!” Lestat sneered. This was the last thing he needed. A coven full of busy-bodies butting into their affairs.

He paused his mental ranting. Their affairs? Their, as in Louis and his? His Louis whom he had not laid eyes on for so many years up until a month ago, before the concert. And now just like that he was going off again! Not a word? Not a note? Why not just poison him, and set the house on fire again? 'Well Louis this chapter will not close so easily, like one of your philosophical bound text of Keats! Hell hath no fury, like this vampire scorned!' 

Grabbing his leather jacket from the rack he flung it on and opened the door. “Call your man, Armand.”

“You are going to bring him back then?”

“Kicking and screaming if I have to, or perhaps in an urn. How dare you let him go! And to New Orleans of all places.”

“Lestat,” Marius sighed, “Do try to be calm and civil to him. Louis is really a-”

“Do not tell me about who Louis is, Marius!" Lestat cut him off, "No one, knows him better than I.” He shot a fierce glare to Armand. “No one.” He repeated, slamming the door. 

Louis though a wallower and pouting child did not always want resolve and calm words. What he needed was a good kick in the pants. And Lestat felt that no matter how many years or miles separated them, he would always be the one best suited for that job.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter guys. I hope you enjoy. Sorry for the delay. I went to New Orleans in October, and had to be inspired one more time. ;) There is the most lovely restored house on Royale Street!!!

“You are either the most foolish mad man, or the most idiotic! You have not changed, Lestat! Not one bit!”

“Yes, yes, Louis!” The blond brat waved the words away as they continued to walk through the London night. He had gone to New Orleans and retrieved his wayward fledgling, and together they had walked the grounds of their former home on the Rue Royale.

He had indulged Louis' melancholy. They had walked through the French Quarter together side by side, as they had centuries ago, eventually arriving at St. Louis Cemetery Number One. And it was in front of Louis' very grave that Lestat had decided to end the solemn atmosphere.

Taking them both into the air he had used the cloud gift to fly them to the house of scholars; The Talamasca. And then Louis had watched, mortified, as Lestat pranced around David Talbot's office, spilling secrets with fiendish delight and even offering the elderly man the Dark Gift.

'Ah yes,' Louis realized as they continued their walk through the dark streets of London, 'the Brat is back.'

Once Louis had stopped 'parroting his disapproval', as Lestat dubbed it, they continued walking, easing into comfortable conversations. The blond eventually reached over to place his arm over Louis' shoulder, at once noticing how cold his fledgling felt to the touch.

“Louis! Haven't you fed?” He demanded.

“Oui. Last evening, before you arrived.”

“Why didn't you say something?!”

“Lestat, I am fine. I just grew chilly flying across the Atlantic. And who wouldn't...” He fell silent, reaching over and plucking a small piece of melting ice from the blond's wavy hair.

“Does it frighten you?” Lestat asked. “That I can take to the air, and travel such distances?”

The brunette shook his head. “Non.”

The French-born gave a frustrated sigh. “If you're going to be stubborn about this, will you at least submit to getting warmth another way?”

Louis' cheeks colored slightly, this hint of perversion caused the blond to gloat a little inside. “Let me buy you a coat.” He clarified, relishing the even more embarrassed look on his fledgling's face.

“I have funds-”

“Which you will never use for a coat or anything remotely fashionable.” He frowned at his child. Such a gorgeous body lay under that thread-worn sweater and the faded black jeans. “I thought I told you to lose that outfit.”

Louis frowned, “If it pains you so to look at me in such a state, then perhaps I should leave-”

“Louis, Louis,” the blond sighed. “Must you always take everything to heart? Now come,” he placed his arm around him and steered them to the right, “we should at least get you a new coat, if nothing else. That way you wont continue to shiver and your rags will be sufficiently covered. Everybody's happy, oui?”

“Lestat...”

“Mon Dieu! Are you going to fight me on everything? You're freezing, and if you wont fix it the easy way-”

“Lestat my only protest is the direction we're going.” Louis replied.

Lestat paused to stare at him curiously. “And what direction is that?”

“I do not know. But if you insist on purchasing a coat for me, the shopping district is in the opposite direction.”

Lestat turned around to face the other side of the street. “Oh...well, speak up, then, Louis! I've never been to London. I told you that, and when was it you became so acquainted with the area, hmm? And with the fashion district none the less.”

Louis kept his head down as they walked. “I was here for a few years, several decades ago, before I went to New York. It hasn't changed much since then. Europe never appears to change the way American cities do over the years.”

“Thank God for that.” Lestat muttered, afterwards falling into silence. He knew Louis had not traveled to England alone. He would have undoubtedly been in Armand's company, a thought that irritated him to no end. The very idea that the redhead and his Louis had shared blood, an intimacy Louis now denied him, left him beyond perturbed.

He looked over at his beautiful child, before reaching over and squeezing his hand tightly.

Louis stopped walking, and turned to give his maker a surprised look. “Lestat?”

The Frenchman kept staring at him, slowly walking closer and closer to his fledging until he had him backed against the alley wall. He leaned forward until his forehead was touching Louis'. “I've changed my mind. We're not going to get you a coat.” He watched as Louis stared at him, confused and a little apprehensive. “I'm going to warm you up a different way..”

 

They had gone to a hotel. The glittering counter tops and shining marble of The Savoy cast their spell on Louis' eyes, causing the brunette to stare at the lavish reception hall as Lestat checked them in.

“We have a double bed available... will that be cash or charge, sir?” The small brown haired receptionist smiled.

“Non, non, Cheri.” Lestat scolded gently. “Do you not have something more comfortable, a suite perhaps? I know it is last minute, but do know I can compensate.”

The receptionist nodded. “One moment.” as she searched on her little computer. “The only suite we have available is the Edwardian Suite. It's around six thou-”

Lestat cut her off sliding his credit card across the counter. “We'll take it.”

Louis sighed at the extravagance, letting his maker finish up. He noticed a small group of women across the lobby staring at them, giggling. He tried his best to ignore them. He half listened to Lestat make day-time arrangements. “No maid service, and no one must interrupt us by day. We've traveled a long time to visit some friends tomorrow evening, and will sleep straight through the day!”

“Yes.” the woman agreed taking the money he had pushed across the counter. “Very understandable. No one will disturb you.”

Taking Louis' arm, Lestat led the fledging towards the elevators. As they were about to step into one, one of the gawking women from earlier approached them. “Um...Sir? Or... Mr. Lestat?” She was blushing. “May I have your autograph?” She quickly pulled a copy of 'Rolling Stones' out of her bag. The vampire's face was plastered across the cover.

Louis didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Here they were in another country, two months after the concert, and Lestat was still being sought after in public... Luckily he recognized the magazine as an older issue. Although the creole would never admit it, he had the same magazine tucked away in his San Fransisco loft, with other posters and tapes of Lestat memorabilia.

He studied the magazine cover as Lestat's fingers danced over it with a blue felt pen. The blond posing with a guitar and wearing an open leather jacket. The contrast between the black coat and his bare white chest showing that he was a vampire as well as a rock star.

A flash of silver caught Louis' eye. There, on the magazine where the pale flesh met the lapel of the jacket... Was that a ring? Non, not even Lestat would be so rash as to pierce his-

Louis shuddered pulling himself out of his thoughts in time to see the blond kiss his fan's cheeks, before sending the girl back to her giggling flock to show off her newest treasure.

“You are quite diligent with your fans, Monsieur Le Rock star.”

Lestat raised a brow at him. “Am I?”

“Yes, you are quite... indulgent.”

The blond smiled, hearing the elevator ding and open, no one else was inside. “Louis, Louis, Louis, I can be very... indulgent.” He pushed his fledgling into the elevator, up against the glass mirror as the door closed.

Lestat could not remember how long the ride took, or how they had unlocked the door, whether he had used his mind or the key. He heard the slam of the door as he closed it with his foot, his arms were full with Louis.

“Mon Louis.” He whispered, as he pushed his mouth to his lover's, the blond's tongue pushing past the lips to force entrance. Louis let out a small moan tangling his hands in the blond locks. He tried to speak, to make words, but nothing could come out. All he could comprehend were Lestat's lips moving against his own. 'Lestat.' The name flashed in his mind. 'Lestat.' He shivered feeling those hands play with the hem of his sweater, pulling the garment over his own head. “Lestat!” He broke away to protest.

“All of you, Louis. Let me see all of you.” Lestat whispered, kissing down the Louis' neck and running his tongue over the plump artery in his throat. He moved them towards the large bed that seemed to be more pillows than mattress. Laughing, he pushed his child back on it, watching him bounce a bit before straddling him. “You may think my tastes extravagant, Louis, but you must admit we would have trouble doing this beneath a cold cellar.”

Louis frowned, “...the first time we shared a coffin we were quite confined and that did not stop your...advances.”

Lestat threw back his head and laughed. “Why Louis, I was quite surprised you left that out of your little interview with Daniel.”

Louis flushed, turning his head. “I did not reveal everything, Lestat.”

“Oui...I know.” He bent his head down to kiss the pale chest, kissing and licking over the pink nipple. “Would you have written about these intimacies in your little book?”

Louis looked up at him suddenly, his hands reaching for the buttons of Lestat's dress shirt before he began yanking it open. “Will you put this in your second book, Monsieur?” He reached up boldly and bit the base of the blond's throat.

“Louis!” Lestat gasped in surprise... but Louis' teeth had not pierced him. It was simply a bold little nip... Lestat knew his lover would never take his blood neither in love nor in play.

They removed the rest of their clothing, continuing to kiss and stroke each other, their actions toning down to a more gentle level. Lestat spread Louis' legs open, lowering his mouth past the mortal organ to his thigh, nuzzling the femoral pulse. He pressed his thumb there, fingers teasing the coarse hair.

Louis shivered once the thumb lifted, feeling a zinging sensation as the blood began to flow there again. “Lestat.” He gasped, balling his fists into the golden hair.

His maker smiled at the praise, moaning as he licked the blue vein before slowly sinking his fangs in. He groaned as the first mouthful of warm blood filled his mouth. Gulp after gulp he took more of Louis into him. His essence, his soul, his love. It was all in the blood, and Lestat felt it fill him, spreading down the trunk of his body, then tingling outwards to his limbs and digits.

Below him Louis was shuddering, sobbing quietly, always the well-bred gentleman. Involuntarily, his body lifted, arching at the bow of his spine. His thighs quaking around Lestat as his maker drank from him, the great shivering and swoon that came with blood shedding, sending quivers down to his curling toes. “Mon Dieu.” He whispered, “"Lestat, mon amour, tout va bien. Comment se fait-il, vous avez toujours me faire sentir comme ça? Toujours mon amour, tu me fais toujours sentir de cette façon! " !” 

 

Lestat slowed his drinking, letting the last of the blood flow, as he pushed his tongue against the wound until it healed closed. He kissed at it as he pulled away, and whispered “Vous m'avez, Louis. Ne savez-vous pas cela? Tu est le mien eternellement!”

 

''You will not take it from me, Louis? You are certain?'' Lestat asked later, as they laid in bed, under the clean sheets spooned together.

“...You do not need to keep offering it. I am content right now.” He said, pushing his back against the blond's front. He frowned a bit before pulling his hips forward.

Lestat peered over his shoulder to look at his lover's face. “What is it? If you are so content why do you pull away from me? Does my stronger blood repulse you now, that you are not clouded with lust for it?”

“Non. Lestat please, do not get angry so quickly after-after.” Louis buried his face into the pillows.

“Then what is it, Louis?”

“...You have not changed Lestat, I said this earlier.” His cheeks began to redden. “But your body has.”

The blond stiffened. “You think I'm-”

“Lestat.” Louis sighed. “...You are poking me.”

“I am not even touching you-” He trailed off. “Ah.” He lifted the covers and smiled. “Ahaha.” He began laughing, a fit coming over him. He grabbed Louis and pulled him closer. “I see, so I have, hardened, yes?”

The creole kept his face buried in the pillows but slowly nodded.

“...Does is bother you that much, Louis? Or perhaps you would like to see what it's capable-'' One of the decorative pillows was soon thrown into Lestat's face. “Louis!” He said shocked grabbing his own pillow and swinging it at him.

The two continued flinging and kicking, wrestling under the covers until Lestat had his child pinned beneath him. “Ah, still so rebellious, mon enfant. And how far will this stubborn conquest go? How long shall you suffer with my terrible company? Hmm?”

Louis sighed, “...For as long as you shall have me.”

“...Then you will stay with me, Louis?”

“Oui. Toujours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay it's been a busy year. But here it is the last chapter. I am planning a little holiday epilogue, that I hope I can have for you guys by New Years..though I know in my procrastinating soul will be January. Thank you so much to all of you who have read and reviewed! Your praises, opinions, and Kudos mean the world to me! And again Thank you to Savah, the most amazing BETA I have ever had the privilege of working with. I hope you all enjoyed. Happy Holidays!


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